like the bedsheets of a priest
but you just asked if I'd be back
by dinnertime at least.
I said I'm sorry I lost my way
and that my voice is going hoarse
but you gave me a smile
and pointed me back north.
I said I can drive you out of town
and bake your favorite bread
you laughed and said you didn't care
as long as we got fed.
I was quiet Monday morning
while I learned about myself,
but without plan you took my hand
and put the book back on the shelf.
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