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Grounded

Stood at the upstairs window, hands face down fists clenched, knuckles touching cool windowsill. Crows, silhouette cut-outs surveyed the town from aerials and ranged the skies at will. I watched their dark progressions jealously, from eggshells cracked they burst and rove the sky roaming when needs dictate, they hunt and feed instinct their engine, not some reasons why. And here I stand moulded by circumstance, driven by life's winds, leaf upon a stream, currents of obligation, waves of chance my path determined, yet allowed to dream. Cannot accept defeat though these things be, I know I'm out there somewhere- the real me

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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Date: 3/11/2018 6:38:00 PM
That's a thought provoking poem, Viv.
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Viv Wigley
Date: 3/13/2018 2:08:00 AM
Thanks, Agnes x
Date: 3/11/2018 1:30:00 PM
I had to read this twice over, it is so deep with meaning, Viv. I can feel the earnest yearning for true freedom here so well. Such beautiful, poetic imagery and metaphor...a fave!
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Viv Wigley
Date: 3/13/2018 2:08:00 AM
Thanks, Laura, circumstances seem to funnel one down a very restrictive passageway, me being whimsical, I suppose. Viv x