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About This Poem
A Seed In The Wind
~
Years lost, the barren floor
a thousand poppies shall live no more
through twilight's calm a storm raged on
of flickering fire before the dawn
Wither o' heights of careless breath
the evil wind will give no rest
so burn my orange fire burn of death
soon rebirth shall find a nest
Until that day I stand subdued
where painted skies
my only muse...
~
Poet-Rick Parise
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