Memoir, Poetry, Writing

Cave Dweller

I tiptoe back
into my cave
here I know
no love
and my dreams
are slaves
the walls they’re
painted with
a man and child
that have no faces
I am unaware
of the setting
and rising of
the sun
because these
walls prevent me
from seeing changes
notes of promise
are left at
my doorstep
letters dated
weeks before
by men
who’ve waited,
but wandered,
ignored
I must emerge
for work and play
but the delights
of the cave
forever tempt
me to stay
where I can
dream in
the dark,
write by
match
and
flame.

9 thoughts on “Cave Dweller”

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