Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I write. And maybe someone will read and find a flower among these weeds.
Thursday 11 July 2013
untitled (summer 1)
by july, the wind stretched the clouds so thin
that we started to believe in summer & blue skies
what was left of the clouds was torn into fragments
of the finest lace
only drawing our eyes
to the immaculate beauty
beyond our wildest dreams
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