Life
becomes busy
in Springtime:
Each word read
is plucked from another river,
embracing,
inscrutable genius.
The sky
is a restful
thought,
pillowed,
till the 'morrow.
`x~William ~copyright 03/19/09
Thursday, March 19, 2009
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3 comments:
I am trying to understand this poem. Correct me if I'm wrong ...
Your eternal hope is for world peace to prevail where life exist as fresh as spring, untainted by chaos or war.
Abit deep for me but I enjoyed trying to interpret.
Whatever ^^ I liked it.
... and words bloom like dandelions, in Springtime... to be blown into the wind. =)
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