All Cease

The stressful years

You raced

Around the corners,

Tearing knuckles on the granite,

Searching for the door unlocked,

All cease here

Through the backdrop

To the hard stop.

Your mouth is still unhinged

From the walls that fell

Revealing warm cicada soundtracks

Like the sunset,

Fuzzy at the edges.

You had never known

Tree bark bore muddled tinges green

Or evening breezes colored with the scent

Of honeysuckle from the south.

- 4/30/25