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Patterns
December 29, 2015
Staring up towards patched up clouds
A blanket sewn into the sky
My lips do not move
for words are not necessary
My eyes are small
but they see great things
My ears hear the whisper of the wind
Telling me to speak only when
the safety pins of my mind have been
removed
Inch by inch the pattern of life
is drawn above me and
Inside of me
Threading itself around and
around
Just waiting for the snip
to be free
© Tabatha B., Peoria, IL
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