The ground is softest behind the pond.
Ankles lost in the mud.
The shovel grows weary.
Your neat package of tape and plastic
is fraying around the edges.
I reveled in the calm.
I never had to answer questions
that were never asked.
The loneliness ghosted my nights
until you oozed your way
into my every crevice.
I waited and waded through calls
and messages of self doubt and uncertainty.
Scheduling became my master.
I longed for the lost quiet
even as I enjoyed the rush of being
pinioned and over powered;
the gravity and the thrust,
the taking of flight.
I forgot my way,
and crossed the streams.
The cost-benefit ratio weighed
against you.
I chose the silence.
The neighbor has a new dog.
I need to dig the hole a little deeper.
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