#poem #poetry #amwriting #napowrimo On the Day of First Dead 10 April

On the Day of First Dead

From the postbox on the corner
I watched the people come and go.

My mother in a sheepskin coat,
hunched and hurried, through the door.

And all the world was held within
the circle of the shadow there

in which, I chatted out the tale
of why I turned and turned, around

the postbox, cold against my hand.

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