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Category: Writing and Poetry
Whispers
Longing leaves love lone and littered, Hovering about in halves -- Two of them, and sometimes bitter, But it never stopped our laughs. Will it, wish for wanton whispers Like the rustling in a tree Of a hot wind giving shivers And a sighing melody; Rays from up there feed us fire, Fuel shifting on the ground; And as steam and smoke rise higher There is just one lovely sound -- To the rhythm of this lyre We can hear our pulses pound.
(Another of C's poems to H. My first sonnet. Feel free to comment.)
9:40 PM
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