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His hand clamped around her wrist,
Held firm beneath the tree.
He inhaled the fresh and warm air,
Smelled the lilac and the sea.

She glanced at him so slyly,
Warm lips curled into a grin.
If only she could tell him,
If only she could win.

When he found her in the corner
She warned him of her sin.
He pulled her from the ground then,
Her once full frame now so thin.

She told him he must leave now,
She pushed, a gentle shove.
His red lips met her chapped ones,
"I'll never leave, my only love."

But just then, two weeks later,
He placed a lily on her grave.
A tear rolled down his dry cheek,
The only one he couldn't save.

Still he sits, beneath the tree now,
Smells the lilacs and the sea.
She's just a whisper in the wind now,
"But the only whisper that's for me."
Bamboo groves sing the symphony of winds
in their crackling I hear my heart
on the red lone summer road.

The village woman passes with her cow
she has no time for poetry
yet her radiance fills me to beg life
more..

O Death be a while away
I've taken root on this land.
On the village road, May 11 2018 2 pm
Can you tell me
please
which way now is home
I used to know, my dear
The way was clear
There was no fear

Tying my walking shoes
I knew I needed to get clear of here
thought I'd find
all that was dear

The road though, it is narrow
The cliff it is shear
My balance is
woozy

Can you tell me my dear

which way is home
which way do I go from here,
I think I oughta know
But the hills they are wavering
The ocean is in turmoil
The mountains are slick
far too dangerous

The desert has no mercy

I know something and with this knowledge
I think I must be cursed
I think I have it
Peace & Home
goes and comes
and comes and goes.
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