Walking to the Bank

Walking, the world seemed strange.
The strange shapes of cars all undesirable,
the broken bricks of old houses,
litter and leaves.
At the bank the young male teller
called me by my name,
I didn’t like that.
I went past a tree taped with danger
to protect me from the unseen bee’s.
And home again I found a card
telling me I missed a delivery,
it’s always when you leave for 5 minutes.



Author: leeethomas

Visual Artist, musician and writer from Australia. Interested in Love and the Mind.

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