My Poetry

At Seventeen

at seventeen
my best friend
was a
fir tree

a giant fir tree
on the edge
of a windbreak
on an old farm

facing northwest
hunkered in the snow
it reached
high and wide

at seventeen
returned to parents
after 18 months away
freedom

just 6 more months
I tell myself
refused old school
more abusers there

in a fish bowl
with 4 others
in 3 rooms, all winter
none of them love me

seeking refuge
bundled up
crunching snow
daily retreat

scrunch down
under tree
look up at limbs
start climbing

up 30 feet, or more
look to the horizon
facing northwest
daydreaming of freedom

of spring

so many winters later
realization dawns
I still look
to the northwest

4 thoughts on “My Poetry

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