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July 15, 2007

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings.

I pick up a pen

But a shadow looms

Not for me the study

A game of covert hide and seek


A noisy door

That creaks a warning

Stuck in a time machine

Hiding, hiding.


So busy hiding

That words disappear

Leaving a trail of

Crumpled pink paper


Twelve little dots

Peek from the void

And beckoning to me

They fly.



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