His hairline’s retreating.
White flags held high it gallops towards the back of his head.
It doesn’t want to face forward anymore than he.
If he can’t see what’s coming it isn’t happening.
Turn away. Hide. Whatever happens don’t open your eyes.
He’s a grown man playing peak-a-boo.
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Written by Bruce Arbuckle using the Freewrite Writing Prompt on Hive
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Bruce Arbuckle (felt.buzz)
Humpbuckle Tales 