I sit in silence.
A soft light seems to sit upon my face.
Pondering, some phrases form concepts
Of a place--
Captured in thought, freed from phrases,
Pictures like raindrops--
Hard to count, hard to hold.
I'm lost in mazes.
Bent like old age,
I want to remember
Bright lights and smiling faces.
Still I tread in water wondering,
What is that which touches
Comments on this poem/writing:
|anonymous (18.104.22.168) -- Monday, November 27 2006, 08:53 pm|
This really hit a nerve for me. Amazing, just purely amazing!
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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
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