Join the Dots
Poetry, inspired by a local writing group.
I could have sworn I buried it under the furthest tree to the right.
I remember the dirt under my fingernails, and the ten minute walk to the barn.
Yes, my breaths were laboured then, and tinnitus rang in my ears. I can’t be expected to recall the exact amount of paces I took. I was stumbling slightly, and I’m sure I…