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Matty D
Poems
Mar 2013
Ghosts of the Forest
Every morning I hear them,
A shrieking pack of nomads
Announcing another day of searching.
They are never seen, but I know they’re close.
Like the wind, their echoing cries sway the pines and oaks
Surrounding my cabin.
Leave me be!
Every morning they cry out
Reminding me of their presence,
Something I’d rather not know
For they will likely wander forever.
1/16/2012
©MDC
Written by
Matty D
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