Posted in Poetry

eavesdropping

The wind hears my thoughts

and tells me not to say them,

for words will fly out to them,

seize their sheer gossamer wings

sparkling tinsels of dream drops,

and break them before they fly

to the sky and meet my stars.

Author:

I write stuff of my interest that does not interest anyone in my blog. No grammarians, no copy editors, no marketers, no cynics are welcome.

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