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Sunday, 20 September 2015

Past Present Echoes

All to hear
The ears ring
The wind blows
The pen scrapes the paper
The only connection
Is within

Within these words
Words only of our pasts
Our present futures
Where do they go to
My lovely

All to hear
The ears ring quietens
The wind blows louder
The pen pauses for breath
The only connection
Remains within