wrapped in cambric with my dreams
I know I fit into the Land – it can’t
get better than that but there were
moments when I saw through wider
eyes; now I stand where I only see
clear to the end of each tree row
without restraint and wonder why
you gave unstintingly for love that
ate your grace and nascent wisdom
greedily – it went to feed without
complaint a displaced soul who’s
spaced uneasy of his origins
© 1 October 2009, I. D. Carswell
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