There is no cuckoo. Costa sifts snowdrops 

in the top of your coffee to announce the spring

Cups drifting in the middle of the road will last longer than you

Yet there is a rhythm to everything. It beats.

When you feel you’re a footnote on someone else’s history,

Easily wiped away, like chalk on a board, remember your screech.

About beckydeans

I've always been a writer one way or the other.
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