Monday, December 12, 2011

If I walked into silence, what would I hear? Gentle thoughts whispering--where there's love is your lonesome girl somewhere.

A heavy wind blew back her hair. I'd never seen her before. Nor had I known a wind to please so much a dark, wandering soul

If I filled my pockets with the places I've been and the people I've known, I'd wear these old jeans till they frayed with time. Till the places were all gone. Till the people were mine no more.

I've decided what to do. I've decided what to do with this poem. Fold it gently along delicate lines, then place it into drawer and let it repose in gentle rhyme.

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