tales from the murky splurge:

By spiderfly - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Friday, July 7, 2017

I search an old poem to blow dust from its lines my words weary and repetitive like a worn shirt it falls limp amongst your tired face falling tattered through the dirt i wish to wipe your frowning face and lift your chin to feel soft breeze and warming sun to let the light of loving in but far away... Sign in to see full entry.

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