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Morning Thoughts (3)


by Erika Byrne-Ludwig


Words travel from one pen to another.

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I tried a whole morning to console my weeping willow.

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I think then I write. But words move away from my thoughts.

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Scribbled poetry ... a handful of broken words.

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Last night, the river told me troubling things.

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Sadness ... a pond full of water.

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Drought is an instrument of torture.

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The full moon enjoys the caresses of the sun.

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I share my love for birds with my cat.

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The sun is a basket full of ripe apples.

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Some hearts can be eaten.

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Not all flames burn.

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