On a quiet stroll
down a leaf-dark lane,
I met a young man
who was me.
He had been meandering dreamily,
and sleepwalking through the weeks,
long before the shock
of life’s alarm clock
awakened him
to the glare of awareness
and the certainty
that his letters to the North Pole
would never be answered.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
18 March 2025
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