The Sign

I sit here. All alone. Forever. Just around the corner, or right by your door.
‘I used to be your neighbour.’ So the sign says.
The sign I hold by the floor.

The checked T-shirt I wear, worn right down to the seams.
‘I used to be your neighbour.’ So the sign says.
The sign I hold by the sea.

No sand between my toes. It doesn’t tickle my feet.
‘I used to be your neighbour.’ So the sign says.
The sign I hold by the beach.

used to be


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