Borrowed Pajamas

Sitting in borrowed Pajamas, eating pot pie.

Swinging on the porch, dirt beneath my feet.

All is silent- Everyone’s asleep.

Everyone can dream- Everyone

But me.

Ducks scattered across the lawn,

heavy breeze combing my hair.

I gaze out into the sweltering heat,

the humid air that enters me,

Now I think I’ve come to see.

This place was never meant for me.

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Late riser, insatiable foodie, lover of words

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