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Before
Daytimes we ran
through gilt grass and tawny sand.
It was all who could shout the loudest
and talk the fastest
so that their words collapsed
like dominos.
And they were the quickest to
lay down their cards
in a royal flush of their days before.
In the nights words came slower.
They dripped rich like honey from a spoon
and hung in the air like a foghorn from
across the ocean.
It was the time of the silent
and the still.
They were haloed in the half-light
the darkness smoothed their scabs and sunburns.
They were the cross-legged mystics
the silent ones.
We ran like our feet had caught fire
we hopped backwards and stepped sideways
to avoid reaching our destinations.
We lay long and expansive
and rose on the sides of our shoes
to make sure we would be seen.
We coiled in upon ourselves
to hide to listen
to secrets we were not meant to know.
We were childen for so long
a desert of upturned hourglasses.
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This article has 10 comments.
How i want to be a child again so bad! lol.. great poem
can u rate mine 2?
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Favorite Quote:
"This is the way the world ends: Not with a bang but a whimper." - T.S. Eliot