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July 15, 2007

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings.
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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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