I run in slow motion from the deep mud, and peel back long blades of grass, searching for anything to use as a boat, even a old log could pass.
I need a water mattress to support me on the fire pond, so stress no longer has a chance to bond.
Finally respite and recuperating relief, from gravity's vice like grasp; inevitable, never regrettable, vast waters of wonderful weightlessness, at last.
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Wonder & Wanderlust | Poetry of Roems
PoetryI didn't know the world I read everyday, had a back page, with links to other mediums, in this metaphorical manifestation of philosophical, poetical mischief. This is a collection of profound poetry experiences, exploring the internal, external, met...