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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Other >> ID #797336 |
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When time weighs heavy on my eyelids
and thoughts shatter against words like empty glasses, I thirst for the song of the doorbell, off key. Famished for friends, I gape into faded albums with a whiff of the old world, searching for a temple among the ruins. With tears to salt the memories within, I race across the pages, in a dash stretched through decades, watching the faces inside picture windows. Mind orbits around ancient loves to wonder if I could ever see these people again and plead for small attentions, even in dreams, in the darkness, for when the circuit is shorted, and fuses blow all around, photographs are candles to light up the night.
© Copyright 2004 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com).
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