Rinse the Rooms (a poem)

Rinse the Rooms (a poem)

All these steps
Some imprinted
Others muddied
For new and familiar
Sights, even sounds
Of sun worshippers.

All these steps
That transport you
To lands worth touching,
Taken time from busy living
Where the sands
Stop flowing through the glass.

All these steps
Layered and merged
Cost train fares and car miles
To accumulate today,
All for someone to erase
Ready for the next heatwave.


David A. Church

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