Ramblings of a Convicted Half-wit

An online journal that (b)logs the incessant insignificants that pass through sq's gray matter every day. Pick up the pieces and make out the puzzle.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Breeze

Gentle breeze;
Lift the withered leaves or
Weathered dreams that weighed
Upon thy soul that yearns for
The guileless flight of doves,
White amongst the orange.

Gentle breeze;
Pass through the verandah and
Brush off the stubborn sediment
That defies the reluctant cleaner. And
Aerate the musty room left
Abeyant and stifling.

Gentle breeze;
Comfort the discomfort
Of a body ravaged by the
Angry Sun and impossibly take
This body elsewhere, so that it
Burns no longer.

Gentle breeze;
For all that can be but
Chose the pettiest of forms, yet
Moves the oceans in
Gentle oscillations so it be
Fit for sail.

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