Opening The Door
Opening
the door
returning
to
yesterday.
Peek ing
inside a
thousand
thoughts
run the
corridors
of my
mind.
all our
treasures
remain
in tact.
just as
we left
them
so long
ago.
Our tree
house
neat
and tidy..
dolls
dressed
in their
finest,
waiting
for our
return.
It is
not the
same
now,
someone
is
missing.
Yesterday
cannot be
recaptured
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poem by Heather Burns
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