Wednesday, 13 April 2016

High

When he reached the loft door
He was greeted
by soft-voiced animals
Each one had fur
Some smooth, some coarse,
Swirling lines and spots.
Absorbed in the patterns,
He was overcome by a feeling of
Falling asleep
Until he forgot who he was
Lost track of days
Walked for nine hours
And woke in a daze.

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