Sunday, December 4, 2011

Quiet Stir...

I feel quiet
Quite soft
Bending with the breeze

I remember riding on the back of his motorcycle
Paris, 4am,
Watching myself think-
This is happening to me

Filled with silent energy
I lay stirring inside
The sun offers to me
Dreams I expect to find 

I don't need words
Only sometimes-
Just to know that my suspicion is real
That you are listening to my feel

Disconnected, drifted, and lifted
I listen to the stories
Birthing daydreams and the in between's
Sun spots and shadows paint me over
Lift my step and fill me with stride
This beauty is never hard to find 

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