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I exist in the depths of the shadow
     my mind.
My soul seeks comfort.
   The dew that collects
on the petals that glisten
   rays of sunshine.
Love? What of it?
   A memory of the ways things
could be.
  Some far off distant future
past rivers rushing childhood
  glimpses.
No more safety net daydream
  afternoons.
Spoon fed happiness tastes
   bitter as it curdles with age.
Home seems so far back the road
  is long with destination unknown.
Long winters.
  Stuck in the middle. I couldn’t
find my way if I turned back.
   Gentle hands of time.
Hold me.
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15 thoughts on “

  1. Reblogged this on ∙ tenderheartmusings ∙ and commented:
    Love? What of it?
    A memory of the ways things
    could be.
    Gentle hands of time.
    Hold me.

    one of the rare gifted souls I’ve encountered on this path whose beautiful soul so effortlessly spills in words..magic-like and profound..if you enjoyed this, you’ll love his work as much 🙂

  2. Greetings,

    I very much like this, and owe it to Himani for seeing it, as she reblogged it on her lovely blog.

    All good wishes,

    robert

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