Resting Legends – A Poem

Resting Legends

I don’t know what I am doing here,
or even where here is for that matter.

There is a hole in the floor that is silver
and reflective and shimmering

like mercury. Yet I know I could pass through
it, if I wanted, it only being a thin

membrane of no substance, and I would
travel somewhere else. Where that is

I cannot say. Someplace different I
suppose. Maybe the sun is green there and

the oceans frozen, the people live in brick
houses that line the coasts and stare

at waves that never crash. But I like it
here. It smells of fresh cinnamon buns
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