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The never-ending cycle of night and day
the morning sun
deep on my skin
breathing in the morning breeze
nobody here
to tear me apart
nobody here
to say that I am judged
sitting in the fresh air of mornings
taking in the singing
of the birds around
writing poetry
that nobody will ever see
in my small blue notebook
waiting for the right time.
to be finished and done
Can I do this forever?
or let this stay behind
never said words
written on paper
with my blue purpure pen
always written rather
in the late night
then in the pouring day
the never-ending cycle
of night and day
© DenisTelemaris
deep on my skin
breathing in the morning breeze
nobody here
to tear me apart
nobody here
to say that I am judged
sitting in the fresh air of mornings
taking in the singing
of the birds around
writing poetry
that nobody will ever see
in my small blue notebook
waiting for the right time.
to be finished and done
Can I do this forever?
or let this stay behind
never said words
written on paper
with my blue purpure pen
always written rather
in the late night
then in the pouring day
the never-ending cycle
of night and day
© DenisTelemaris
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