Sense of I's and T's
Immovable object that you see?
Truly not, if you allow it free.
Intolerable silence you hear?
Try softening your sense of fear.
Impersonal, harsh touch of old love?
Therapeutic caress from above.
Inevitable in taste of grief?
Transitioning stages for relief.
Infinite smell of Autumn decay?
Tumbling leaves in dull, damp, dying day.
Copyright © Linda Alice Fowler | Year Posted 2022
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