The Boy on the Bus

[Despite yesterday’s post, there is more Moroccan magic to be had! And my magic, I mean angst. And by more, I mean this and one more piece. Don’t worry folks – it’s almost over. The months of angst will soon pass.]

[I suppose this is for him, in a way at least. May he avoid the fate I’ve set out.]

A cacophony of energy a shout a leap
No one can tame the young so changeable
From glee to sorrow in moments
Free from conformity
Only to grow into boxes with clipped wings.

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