
there is a painting
outside my window,
hell magneting
the day sun’s glow.
stain of last night
rests on my pillow—
my unraveling
with moonlight’s bow.
feels a few feet from
my reach, the sky,
if only dusk can
give me wings to fly.
—
I write because I read. I read because I write.
there is a painting
outside my window,
hell magneting
the day sun’s glow.
stain of last night
rests on my pillow—
my unraveling
with moonlight’s bow.
feels a few feet from
my reach, the sky,
if only dusk can
give me wings to fly.
—
This is gorgeous!
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grateful you think so. 🙂
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Wow! That’s quite an imagery dearie.
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thank you, dearie! love your new display photo!
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I love the contradiction of sun’s glow and moonlight’s brow. So much passion in your words.
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oh thank you for noticing that line, Grace. i appreciate your time. ❤
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Some days feel too long already at dawn… dusk cannot come soon enough
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sigh. so true, Bjorn. thank you.
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Gorgeous rhyme here, Rosema. Just lovely.
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thank you so much, De. happy to see you here.
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