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Laces of time lie unbroken upon sacred ground.
Forging into deep, black nights, brought on by literary plights,hesitantly authors write duos of many words.Fighting silentlessly back and forth, trying to be the first to write the world’s greatest books.Mesmerized by the talent of others, left alone, to come up with words of their own.Jostling everything, just to have some peace and quiet, totaling…
Looking into my cup, watching bubbles circle and swirl,
So many images coming into view, now slowly disappearing within coffee’s black depths, leaving me writing this poem in memory of this little episode of bubbles with my morning cup.
A complacent gentleman, singing karoke in a pleasant voice.
Taking over the crowd at the cafe, getting smiles and laughter all around.An infectious personality, kind heart, and disposition.Totally in tune with whatever song he sings to us.A pleasure all the way around, as we clap again and again, rejoicingover his live performance.
Strumming my heart softly,
as I turn towards its emotional content,knowing full well that it will hit me into storms of thought, recalling every second counted in all my tomorrows.Stepping every step in complete silence,waiting to be taken away in loving arms.