closing the distance
Not the label sewn on the inside,but the hands that passed it down—
Not the boots that walked first,
but how far they let you roam.
We measured riches
in treehouse kingdoms,
in second helpings,
in stories from a worn-out hat.
How far from poverty?
Far enough to remember.
Close enough to understand.
Closing the distance.
Poetry by anonface
Read 22 times
Written on 2025-11-01 at 11:33
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