RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Death Of Rumor
Fog gathering around my eyelids, misting over the world around
me, parading majestically through ancient streets of bygone
days, supporting livelihood of decadent behavior.
Sensing beauty of unfound joy, expecting the creative aspect
shining through it always.
Outlasting envy of people's minds, set to sail towards distant
lands of learning, preserved for only one - no more.
Penetrating solace, jumping from flower to rose never
alighting - always flying above with wonder kept safely tucked
away in secret treasured places.
Frolicking away days of youth, dancing ballet upon the death
Tiptoeing, allowing the vast desert of constant use, expand
it's limits, exercise it's boundaries well into the era of
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