Wednesday, January 4, 2012


I saw a poem once
Running on soft feet,
Climbing rocks away from me
To its own rhythmic beat.

And off it ran,
Threw off its shoes,
Released its tiny toes
And left a streak of reds and blues,
Traveling with the flows

Of words until
It settled down into a swirling eddy,
Where it was found that it would drown
Because its feet weren't ready.

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