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Writing A Poem

WRITING A POEM With Rose water sweat I spill The earth And exchange glances With nothingness. The moon Lights my words. Each day Is bridgeless In the back Of mourning. In my Favorite chair I find a Crowd of sorrows Illuminated By water. At times The forest is bare And the Garden’s day lilies Are apocryphal, Crafting Reflective Conversations. I observe Lost planets And dead stars. There are stones In the churchyard, But also Leaps of light In which I catch Glimpses of Myself.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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