PROSE POEM surreal
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I looked,I saw an image blue a memory,fleeting yet true,midst the black,white and grey just awaiting me to portrait;I tried to re-capture this dream,reality's not how it seems,it flows & ebbs as morning mist,just out of reach,shadows persist;A high sun then dazzles my eyes,frustration,streams out soundless sighs,forever lost,this unique insight,when suddenly,I start to write creative words,so surreal
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2020
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