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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2174013
8 syllables a line, right on down the line.
The Time

I wandered through the time so near, Pleasantly like it was all mine,

Then I whisperd to the still time, of a natural wicked rhyme,

I wandered through the forest still, and dreampt of times when I was ill,

then it occured to me one day, that I nary regret a share,

and with this form of thinking there, I nary regret the still air,

for the time was ever so cold, that I forgot my mortal soul,

and in a moment of my grace, I simply forgot my cold place,

amongst the stars without a trace, and dwelling in the hot fireplace

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2174013