sticky
damp grass pokes through the cracks and crannies of the broken road
droplets cling to the stalks
drenching a wild cat whose fur is mired by mud and blood
a dying breeze meets its end at the mossy milestone
the milestone
a marker long since abandoned
on a road no longer traipsed by living human feet
no longer graced by relieved sighs or cursed by disappointed groans
the forgotten mark yet stands
and will stand
until the mossy growth and crying breeze tear it piece by piece
and let the crumbled wastes lie among the sticky
damp grass
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