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My thoughts are jumbled up pieces
of scattered paper,
tissue sodden brains
and flecks of dusty gold
flung across peaks and valleys
of snowy isolated mountains,
rapidly floating upon
a commoner's luxurious terrace,
a dog's humane and mannerly gentleness,
a young one's elderly smile.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Dance of Poetry
PoesíaHere lies a genre of emotions a sad, twisted emphasis on time something about finding people (yourself) and letting your soul fly free. I hope every word lingers in your mind.
