Wednesday, February 29, 2012
THE WIND DIES
THE WIND DIES Limp sails, struggling against the current, like a bee, crashing the window pane. Searching, Trembling, crying out in the forest. A sound not heard, a need unfulfilled. Looking for a clearing, some shade, a cool breeze. Ragged from lonesome freedom, to be a willing prisoner. A home...
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