in the courtyard of the abandoned
house,
where not a soul does dwell
hidden
in the weeds overgrown
stands
the broken well
the
inside’s stained mossy green
with
patches bleached white
and
a ficus grows from a crack
its
leaves peeking over the side
stones
for steps spiral down
disappearing
into the thick fern
and
right at the bottom, a brilliant blue sky
to
see a face does yearn
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