Heading Home by Ron Ray

Bitter-boned, I break and crumble to dust
My pockets full of keys to places that no longer exist
An oystershell ashtray full of butts and ashes beside me
Testify to dreams of green hedges and white picket fences

A tapping on the door, a rapping on the wall
Ghosts always like this hour just before dawn
A bird screeches and I wake again to the stinging day
And shufflestep towards home from a thousand worlds away

Ron Ray is a self-taught writer and visual artist living in Rockford, IL, who has lived with major depression for most of his fifty-five years. His work has been published in several magazines, and he has self-published three volumes of poetry through Lulu Press. Reach Ron online at http://ronraylit.wordpress.com and http://bark.deviantart.com.

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