Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Yellow Wind
Wondering. Wandering thoughts. Whispering. Deafening. Frantic beats. Calm waters. Busy yet distracted. Maximum intensity. Maxed. Max.
Sometimes a day goes by in a blink of an eye.
Scrambling for completeness.
Never enough time to go by.
Yet some days are tinged with loneliness.
Nothing drives it away, no, not even a sigh.
Bordering on madness.
The answer will take you by
The hand to the place void of sadness.
Blue as the rose.
Warm as ice.
Yellow prose.
Sweet paradise.
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