An Old Notebook
I found an old notebook
Long abandoned
Filled with scribblings
Suggesting nascency tinged
With a hint of sinister profligacy.
Reading it is like following
A trail of breadcrumbs
Meandering through dark woods.
Sometimes it leads back home
But there’s no one there
Anymore. Sometimes it ends
At an old witch’s cabin
In a pine clearing.
It’s still made of candy
With a peanut brittle roof
Shining in the moonlight
But I lost my sweet tooth
Before the rest of them
Ever had a chance to grow in.
It now seems improbable
Those crumb trails were ever real
Abandoned to the ravenous
Wilderness for so long
So now my pockets
Are always filled with stones.
8/22/26
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