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Oct 2014
A long
and winding umbilical cord
That melts into the distant
sparkling fantasy of a mirage.

A snaking dusty trail hemmed
With rosemaries, pansies,
fennels and violets
Fading like a refrain of a lullaby.

A sad mourning song
Of a windy August night
Voices of homeless times
and tears waiting to be discovered.

images of light and shade
Merging heart-shaped silhouttes
Against the glow of hope and fate
Frail dreams
walking on a dusty trail.

Sometimes I struggle alone
Toil, *****, fall and
cry alone
When you fail to understand

And I trudge on
in the windy night
Toward the holy grail, heaven's ecstacy
To voices in the dark
calling my name.

douglas chesa
Written by
douglas chesa  harare
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