poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

Swinging Chair
the morning, pregnant with dew I gathered up my courage and kissed you you, cold as the dawn, generously graced me but the kiss did not of us "we" make the air heavy with the sand of another storm the light red, the sentiment a presage of our collective demise, I touched your hand you recoiled, preferring your desolation to my feeble comforting gesture an afternoon, a glorious sunset a view of aquamarine, and the ocean blue and us, cuddled on a swinging chair [5-V-2022]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
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