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Stephan
Poems
Jun 2016
I play my guitar
.
I play my guitar,
now crying in sevens
a cold vacant morning
with rain on the ground
Sorrowful chords,
on the strings of emotion
in three quarter tear drops
where sadness is bound
And the storm clouds they form
on the edge of tomorrow
with thoughts ever yearning
for your melodies
dreaming of yesterdays
caught in the feedback,
out of tune longings
in lost harmonies
Breathing in silence
of fret seperations
seeking a songlist
of lyrics unfound
A chill strums my heart,
sitting empty and hollow
I play my guitar
and there isn’t a sound
Written by
Stephan
Camp Johnson Crossing NW
(Camp Johnson Crossing NW)
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