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Apr 2016
Will it always only be a safe dream
like wandering in a bare wilderness,
game to robust predators, and wildness
clear choices call across the primal stream.

It was late Spring when we first did daydream
the fragrant flowers were dusting progress
Winter's meagre offer, a cold caress
the wildlife, sedate upon the grounds glean

of Fall's gathered rare jewelled leaf mountains,
among the valley's musk we would linger
peak with sounds, echoes loud voiced joy bringer
beyond Summer's pleasured column fountains,
wayward wine red chances, seasoned drinker
deep red and bottled up, loose danger pains.
So there was a man who watched life pass him by and as he could not be adventurous in deed, he was in word.
Written by
Ottar  where you will find me
(where you will find me)   
       Joel M Frye, ryn, bulletcookie, bex, PoetryJournal and 2 others
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