In the quietness of a summer afternoon
here I laze a while on the ground
beside me glides my red balloon
a hand under my chin
my pen caressing the sleepy paper watching
Looking for words I try to find
to write you of my heart & of my mind
to write you of untold
to write you a story never sold
to write you about a wild horse
of her need and desire to ramble with no remorse
I would write infinitely
but words keep playing hide and seek with me
if time my captive and words obedient
I would be writing for you endlessly.
( I dedicate this poem to my dear friend)
The Dancer (Limerick)
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A convivial fellow from FranceTook the stage and performed a short dance.He
was graceful and masked.“Did you like it?” he asked.Though most clapped, I
said...
14 hours ago