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Aug 2011
Walking down a hall of splendor,
simplicity smiles from the edges fragilely.
My eyes are enchanted by empty hearts,
gliding to transform their fates,
aflame in all their need.

Closing in are hands from years
falling through the comforts, I know nothing of.
Quickly clouding my field of vision,
I see what I cannot dream of ever promising
in any sound of love.

Fires burn and invitingly wake me
to stand visible to all aching hearts.
Yet I cannot see what they seek to win.
Until, I find I am burning in these halls of splendor
crying with no beginning and no end.

I set out to write all that I am
and found in time I had penned a tale
that left footprints on the souls
of those who had looked into the flickering fire
of my heart, thinking they knew me well.
Neva Flores Varga Smith
Written by
Neva Flores Varga Smith  53/F/Rochester NY
(53/F/Rochester NY)   
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