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Morning Thoughts (5)


by Erika Byrne-Ludwig


I hear the stern voices of my ancestors.

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When summer leaves, some of us want to follow it.

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I've emptied my childhood basket and found a few faded flowers.

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We've all touched cacti in our life.

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The sunflower next door keeps on eyeing the rose in my garden.

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Each season has its collection of songs.

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Mirrors are not afraid of telling the truth.

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I've put my favourite colour in a yellow bottle.

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If only chocolate didn't have such big eyes.

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The old man shows me a posy of faded poppies in his carved case.

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Swimming crocodiles: drifting dead branches.

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In the autumn forest, leaves share their lipstick and nailpolish.

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Four kittens in the night, eight tiny headlights.

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He cuts a poem in pieces and savours one each day.

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I like crossroads. They give me a choice.

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