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dust

Dust

His thoughts settled on her
Gently growing like dust on a vase
His was a vibrant and tidy mind
Excepting this place
Sometimes when his thoughts and dreams ran wild they stirred up her dust
It took days of mental housekeeping to get things back in order
During the days after these whirlwinds her beauty, the memory of her beauty, would shine through the places that had been brushed and polished by other swirling dervish dreams
These were the days that those around him marveled at the light in his eyes and the gentleness in his voice

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About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

2 responses »

  1. I want to capture what you do, in my off blog poems. Thank you for letting me read your poems!

    Reply
  2. If you capture what I do you will definitely have “off” blog poems ha ha

    thank you for reading them!!!

    Reply

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