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Overture

Encapsulated in a world of duty and obligation I see no room for fantasy or imagination no wind of September can ever dismember the longing I feel for illusion, fantasy and excitation Only the stars of heaven can throw me a rope at night when I sleep, its the only time I cope the moon is my woon up there in the sky its the only thing that floats like hope. September 23, 2021

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 9/25/2021 9:32:00 AM
Yes, we must chase that illusive moon of imagination, you have captured that longing so eloquently~
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Date: 9/24/2021 8:58:00 AM
Fine limericks, Vie. Superb writing. Your images are so distinct.
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Date: 9/24/2021 8:47:00 AM
Your right, some nights when the moon is particularly beautiful hope rises...Delice
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Date: 9/24/2021 6:07:00 AM
The only thing that floats like hope--so well written, Vienna.
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Date: 9/23/2021 10:23:00 PM
Oh! Such a beautiful poesy!
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Book: Shattered Sighs