Through a sea of things
there are only some things I can see
through another person's sea though
that's a difficult sea too see
not only is it like swimming through a
variety of colours like Auburn, turquoise, and lavender
it can also be red incarnadine
what I see today
is a dry brown
for miles and miles.
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Poetry is Rhyme and Rhythm.
ReplyDeleteMore than broken lines.
Trains of thought are incomplete,
but words don't have to be.
There is always prose.