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Finding A Place
We seek out places
that seem to fit
the contours of our soul.
For some,
it is those quiet places
with expanded distances
way out past the reach
of thought. For others,
it is cramped city streets
where buildings rise
like glass cliffs on either side,
noisy restaurants and talk
in dimly lit bars.
And there are others
who find fit in seaside towns
where all is timed
by tides and the metronome
of sounding waves.
Or souls who settle best
in dark places canopied
by tall trees, cloud and rain
and others again in the heights
of sunlit mountains
lifting up through
mist soaked terrain.
Then there are those
who have not found a place
except for the vast, solitary
and parched expanses
of a white page waiting
for a few passing showers
to wet its thirst.
Copyright ©
Paul Willason
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