The Empty begs audience
even on a lush green morning.
I cannot hold it at bay long.
I cannot remember my dreams when awake.
I hold my heart too closely now
to admit sentiment better tucked away
carefully between line breaks.
The illusion of a watcher
to protect me has been lost
in a place where the sky is so big,
it swallows both fear and hope.
The Word Rummager 
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