Walking Poem by john o'connell
Walking
Walking
in a field
surrounded
by a forest
light rains down
and the sound of winged voices
drowns the senses in sheer simple drunkeness.
I feel as if I have just begun;
just been born and am 4000 years old.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
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4/16/2024 3:47:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
