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My last day in a small town.

Trees, their twigs and branches intertwined,
I stay,

in the middle of the street. My arms,

just like the bird’s wings.
Thinking about,

how scared I am.

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Comments

that this is personal experience. I really get the feeling of a small town, a town so small that you might stand in the middle of the street for an extended period, and not have to move because of traffic. I sense the anguish of wanting to leave, to see
the rest of the world, and yet reluctance to leave the safety of the place you have grown up in, a place you are comfortable. I get the symbolism in the trees with twigs and branches intertwined, but arms like wings aching to fly. Great stuff.~ Geezer.
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