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365 Days of the Poet: Petal 41, “Random"


Fed by a bowl of random words.

I have watched you ,
via endless afternoons,
your cheek pressed against the windowpane.
Hungry seeker, what do you dream?
What are you reading
in your breath’s fog upon the glass?
Your fingers make a map in the misting;
each line a road of chance,
some moving toward,
some quite away from me.

You mark your destination with a circle and an x.
I open my fist with a kiss.

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Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
bonafide_rarity
Mar. 10th, 2011 07:21 pm (UTC)
Your fingers make a map in the misting;
each line a road of chance,
some moving toward,
some quite away from me.


THIS

It touched my soul
bolowolf
Mar. 16th, 2011 01:58 am (UTC)
Funny, I was going to point out the same 4 lines. 4 lines that say so much.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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