sobota, 21 lipca 2012

Form (version2)


How many years must have passed
To sort out some things that last
Those should have gone away though
Many, many moons ago
How many wrinkles must come
To understand that it's far and done
Can I keep up with the river's flow
Or rather give up and let it go?


Where are the winds that carry my thoughts away?
Go ahead, my hands, feel and caress the clay
Until you form a better me
And I'll put my mind into it and make you see



to be continued

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