So exams are done and I thought I’d do a post.
I remember when you told me the name
Of a pet whose father is not yet born.
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Your head is full of future sepia scenes
Of faceless picnics with faceless children.
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And you put your hope in an ivy vine
Weaving around your vague red brick chimney.
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Figments.
Figments, and glue.
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Your life is linear. Your plans are succinct.
But what if the ivy goes extinct?
