A feeling nears — flutterings
from a nowhere close at hand,
{ buts fly
like bats —
at night }
at this particular point in time
particulars are moot
and debates with a mirroring
no ef**ng hoot,
the steam becomes tears
sliding down a self reflecting
like toboggans
on a childhood winter slope:
hot chocolate in a flask —
uncontainable brown tears
marking the path of a child
skiing slowly across a meadow
towards elevenses —
& warm chocolate
in reality a cold chocolate drink
— undrinkable
as scars from a broken flask
once becomes
scars from a broken flask
twice becomes
scars from a broken flask
— firmly rooted
in the mind of the adult reflecting
spaces &
traces of
the never found — the never
found and the cause
of the never found
and the cause
of the never finder —
now adultly seeking coin
shimmering in the morning dusk
of strangers,
as a feeling nears — flutterings
from a nowhere close at hand.