Oct 2017
Words are like a breeze in a poets mind.
They drift about within
until pen to paper is taken.
Until an invisible force like wind
pushes pen to orchestrate a symphony of prose.
A symphony like wind that plays inside a breeze.
They drift about within
until pen to paper is taken.
Until an invisible force like wind
pushes pen to orchestrate a symphony of prose.
A symphony like wind that plays inside a breeze.
Inspired by Shashi-- Thanks
(66/F/New York)
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