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Nov 2019
Words drift, past the pages and recollection.
Some skip just above a stream of consciousness.
Others hurdle by, accelerating into shapelessness.

A fisherman of thought.
Praying the last of his bait,
feeds him, just another day.

As the days blend together,
and the current thrashes on,
hope is a face on the water.

He’s filled his belly with persistence,
but the need for creation lives on.

Cast the line.
Spin the rhyme.

Feast on the dreams of tomorrow.
Devin Ortiz
Written by
Devin Ortiz  USA
   Bogdan Dragos
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