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Jan 2016
Sky opens
Slides down her face
Wondering, wandering
Lines of Consciousness
And reality
Somewhere between
Intention and frailty

Stay true she remembers hearing the words
But not their meaning.
Go with the flow
And your ship will come in
They told her…

There’s a truth
In the window
And smiling faces
Look back
On grey worn places

Hopeful, little
Eager to be wanted
She dances on streets
That will never run dry

She feared it might never return
That feeling of why?
Purposeful
Like bricks to cement the day
But it wasn’t in her nature to say…

There was a mystery then
A sliver of a patch
To stitch your own
In the quilt of life
They called home

Read and work
Say prayers before bed…
There’s always an answer
Except she’d never know it

Time, an old friend
Had a strange way about her
That was the thing;
She didn’t care.

Awake, she wandered, lonely
Blinded by the blur
Hoping for desolation.
Expecting a word,
Smile or reason in turn.

Except it never came.
Only the rain.
Anna Jones
Written by
Anna Jones  Widnes
(Widnes)   
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