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My terrace was blue and grey in the smoke from your eyes. Not for the first time did we pretend to hear each other's voice, while all that resonated in the balsam twigs was our love lamenting what was left of us. There wasn't much. It didn't hurt me to kiss you any more.
7 comments:
The Black Lily Pool
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Is really cool...
Ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha
you know how to play with words dear. enjoyed your writings
cheers
And my belated apologies of course on the improvisation which offende you....
amazing how so many people dropped in at the blog and i was blissfully unaware...
ghetufool: this is really just playing around. thanks a lot for the appreciative words.
pip squeak: nothing offended me, my boy. it was just the over-reaction of the moment (something which i'm quite famous for). you can go on saying all those lovelies... it hardly matters.
nice...
brilliant!
love this.
do you mind if i use this poem for a writing workshop. my young students can model their poem on this.
let me know.
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