They just need a lighthouse keeper
some light to pull them into
and a person to hold the light steady
steady for them to see
steady like a tree
a tree that stands tall in the forest
awaiting the arrival of birds to take shelter.
Falling into the mud-pile
sticking to their clothes
attaching to them
and grasping them
from a creeping plant.
Eventually something will pull them forward or back
to the place they should be
and hopefully stay
greet with optimism
veer from melancholy
welcome the sanguine way of life
so different from their sullen pasts.
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