in and out of the pages
sensoring my rages
peace runs dry
collecting petals in drifts
Storytime
some would say...
what is the end?
how did it begin?
scooping up leaf mould
its like this....
or so I am told
throw into the air the matter that I have
watch it land in patterns
catching breath on its way down
close the book
and do not peep
clearing the gate post
counting sheep
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