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Rouse

We diverted from our path.
Pausing to stroke the bush
Stirring feathers 
admist the weather 
She rouse from her mid day slumber 
Shrugging off the broken doze 
Of her much needed sleep
She strained to whisper
Just like an trickster 
Struggling to pick               
The words that glitters  
She created many magical paths 
Hoping to shorten our journeys 
Waving a finger like a wandering pin
Circling around a compass 
We pondered with fretting feet
Wondering if to end this pending feat
Admist a screaming timeline 
we screen the closing pathway 
As we envision an ending journey

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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