When You Lose​ Markers

Somehow sitting in a bar

In downtown Chicago

I lost a marker

Some reference point

Of my past

And possible future

As I sat alone

Hearing only faint drips

Of conversations around

I realized that moving about


Can be a strange event

Quiet event


I realized some of my fears

The recurring ones

Are only created not intended

But must be understood

A marker is lost as we grow older

As new ones are set

But I still try to understand

The ones passing just like the rest

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