To my closest fan, Michele
My thoughts wander...
Like fireflies on a summer night,
Dark for a few moments then others bright.
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The morning was as clear as a fragmented mirror,
The trees, grass, and sky were as one,
The Sun hid in fear behind clouds,
The gray fog danced in delight.
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Meanwhile, I tried to obscure my beckoning terror,
My tools gleamed in the half-dark morn.
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But time is gold,
And I commenced the dig,
Glancing from side to side,
Watching for nothing yet feeling something.
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And all the while, conscious of the leaden sound,
Of shovel biting ground.
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Flutter by, butterfly,
For beauty is thy name.
Flutter by, butterfly,
Survival is thy game.
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Flutter by, butterfly,
For life is very free.
Flutter by, butterfly,
Freedom is known by thee.
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Poetry is...
-somethingyouwanttosaybutdontknowhowtosayaloud
Poetry is...
-personal
Poetry is...
-expressioninyourownkindofway
Poetry is...
-apartofthepersonthatwritesit
Poetry is...
-alanguageallitself
Poetry is...
-universal
Poetry is...
-poetic.
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Nimble was the doe,
When cavorting to and fro,
Through the patchy snow.
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Water,
Flowing hastily,
Bubbling at the edges,
Rushing at the rocky chasm,
Tumbles.
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It stands as though,
It were built by,
A thousand kings,
Up in the hills,
So far away,
A distant ring,
So majestic,
Very noble,
Stands the castle.
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Mighty drawbridge,
Of sturdy oak,
Opens for those,
Who have the will,
Have the courage,
To summon those,
The castle's heirs.
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Amid the haze,
Amid the age,
Timeless the ghosts,
That walk this place,
Throughout the days,
Of yesterday’s time.
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Man can relive,
That castle’s day,
Magician’s life,
The warrior’s tales,
The memories of,
That fortress there.
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Out by the lake,
Surrounded by trees,
Sliding and climbing the hills,
Now resting on a rock,
On a cliff near the shore.
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Watch the boats,
Bumping over the jumping, choppy water,
On their way to the ramps,
To be carried away,
Like beached fish from the shore.
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Flies in the air,
Rising currents of warm air,
Chased away by a cool blowing breeze,
The beads of sweat,
Dry into a crusty film.
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Walking along trails,
Crunching and smashing the leaves,
Sneaking up on very fast and alert birds,
Squishing through the mud on the shore,
Out by the lake.
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When you cry so much,
You fill the sea full of salt,
Stop your wave of tears.
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