The first time you knocked
I slammed shut the door
and bolted through the window
running like the breeze
rippling through the fields of corn
racing over sunsets, starry skies and sheep
never turning back
never returning
The second knock came yesterday
I haven’t run far enough away, I see
The bolted door
The boarded up window
and the knowledge that you know
I have always been in here,
kills me
Waiting on either side of a door
for the inevitable
waiting till footsteps fade
and heartbeats cease
waiting for one of us to go back in time
and erase the tree
©Reena Prasad


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