Stable Doors

The wind does moan
Outside, as my thoughts fly
in circles well known to me.
I lie
Unable to close eye
And return to a land
Where I have no command
Over foot or hand.

The morning light filters through curtain.
I am uncertain
Of my inner spring
And no not what today will bring
Other than the endless debate
Over whether I should close the stable gate.
I ought to have said “whoa!”
Long ago
But lacked the will to do so.


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