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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