These words are passing.
Old and new and forgotten.
Breathing life, and taking it back,
weaving an odyssey , parallel to the strangers eye.
Lamenting their home in my mind
seeming private but troubling my heart.
Dust and vines, tangled on the brick.
These words are passing.
Lennie.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Passing
Posted by Lennie Staples at 7:11 PM
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