Hibernation

A mere hollow shell of the past.

Waiting. Perched on high.

Calling to the Easy Rider in all of us.

Now a Daddy-Longlegs.

Spindly. Once a butterfly.

Its rust-flecked curves sleeping-

Longing for a reawakening.

To be grasped by palms.

To hit the road.

Running.

 

© Tom Tide 2016

 

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