In the end,
when the mourning stops
and the black becomes
colorful again,
all that we are
is a mound of fresh dirt
and a stack of old poems.
Friday, August 20, 2010
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a daily poetry blog (minus weekends) and a nice way to not be a procrastinator...
2 comments:
Inspired by Edward and Brent's last poems.
This is beautiful as a stand alone line. I like the the comparison between fresh dirt and old poems it really caters to the senses.
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