The tree by the wishing well
Hunkers like an old man
Fishing corroded coins
With great gnarled fingers
Some days he shivers
Through the not-so-gentle balding
As autumn plucks his hair
And I wish to
Wrap him in a blanket
And his hands round a mug of tea.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
I'm bad at vulnerability I like to tie off places Where mess might hide Might wander in to introduce themself Until I'm all kn...
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To slumber And not be tossed about Like an incomplete formula In the mind of a mathematician Is a good thing The solution Lies in reme...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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Shadow Simon says: somewhere along the way Shadow Simon says: you've lost sight of who you are Shadow Simon says: and you lost the words...
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