January 25, 2010
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His back triumphs all,
A mountain looking down at the miniscule valley beneath.
It dips and curves—the small of his back—
Rising and falling with each individual breath.
Two small valley-dips in the skin;
As one scales the mountain becomes rocky,
Fumbling upon jutting shoulder-blades
That suggest strength with age.
Speckles adorn these ridges, scattered—
The muscles shift,
And I touch its smooth surface
Caressing its crevices,
As the sun illuminates its entirety with each golden strand.

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Powd3er said...
Feb. 3, 2010 at 11:37 am
This poem has great flow and insight.
I really enjoyed it.
Lovely poem darling =]
-Please check out the works that I have posted on here it would be highly appreciated and I think you would greatly enjoy them, Thankk youz-
XxIll tell you Im an orphan after you meet myy familyXx
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