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Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The Stream


So silent in her wanting
With a voice like a prayer
Hoping to be heard
 by only those who care
Needing to be touched by
 More than the cool night’s air
but to be caressed in similar ways
Though not usually one for silly wishes
Have you ever met a breeze that stays?

…yet somehow deep inside somewhere
There’s a spot reserved for dreams
A part that never broke away
Stayed wading in the streams
In a place where
pretty things forever stay
And only beauty is
 welcome to play
You can find her there
After a sad day
With drops of water in her palms
A calm remedy for raging tears
This is where she is herself
She’s been coming here for years

So close to home, that she feels it is
 So many miles from her fears
She knows this place so well
This is where she runs to
When she runs away from hell

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