Constance La France's Contest...7 Sept 25 ' somehow, winds bring messages from places and time where memories fade not...' by poet
This is another night, deceiving myself to be awake...blinded by the sight of my own surreal wisp of a mellow dream raking and turning into long reveries, where something once pleasant is now so trite- that Illusions of fresh morn quickly blacken ... snuffing whispers of a shadowy wind slowly retracing its glide into my cries. Every night, at the sight of darkened moonlight purple lines of evening air heralds pain-- wind arriving from behind, hushed and still, that I hide my face from such musky flavor, carrying scents of our autumnal romps and remind me of wind songs, play, soft cuddles pressed in heavenly light, to whisper love about you, young son high up now with blue stars: And In his court are a thousand jewels twinkling from afar with this soft wind cuddling me in your arms to say, ' all is right, Mama.'
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