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Poetry

There was this urge
And then there was a movement
Something rising inside of me
Like eyes glancing up
Or a head turning
Something inside reawakened
An old memory of an old game
Where words played and sang
There was something small
Like a fluttering bird
A budding leaf
A steaming kettle
That woke up again inside
After an absence
And I felt it again
After a long, long time
A blossom
A ripple in a pond
A splash of ink
Inside
Past midnight
There was a sudden breath of life
That made me remember
How I do love
To write
Poetry



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