365 Days of Poetry: Day Seventy-Eight

I feel behind.
It’s been a few weeks now.
The fallout of being maniac.
My tiger knew it would happen.

I got a postcard today.
My friend lives where mountains touch the sky.
And green still means something.

Tonight, I will be renewed.
Memory is nothing without action.
I know the way now.

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About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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