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Aug 2014
Memories of time past are
sauntering into view like sweet
fragrant breezes, bursting gently
against my cheek.

It is that old familiar feeling.
Drowsily my eyes close to drift
rapturouly into the extemporaneous
visits.

Gold crusted streets lined in cherry
blossoms filled with familiarities tickle
my whimsy as shiny pebbles wink at me
as if to say, welcome back.

Splinters of once hopeful desires are
forming to provide driftwood enabling
me to float like whispers of an awakening
sunrise, warmly rising upwards out of the cold.

I'm enjoying a sweet escape from a
heart burdened by ineffable lonliness.
I'm coasting on a barren plain of sweet
amnesia like the young girl at seventeen.

http://youtu.be/f52dVN-5cWU?list=RDf52dVN-5cWU
Written by
Ann Witt
483
 
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