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Where dreams begin nightmares end. Dead are buried and the living have sorrow. Some things they rhyme Many make you sing and dance A smile, frown, giggle, and sad. Poetry is a delight in ones hand as they master and create. Uniqueness and individuality tastes, forms, and shapes of thoughts and imaginations. Lying low, and moving slow whisking by fluttering light. Poetry is like spirit flight in the thoughts of a Muse.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

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