Imitate the silence within me.
Be it the falling of autumn leaves.
The impressions on the snow I see
Or dreams that saints may weave.
Be the fragrance of the velvet mirth.
Be a stolen stone from the earth.
A shade of darkness and so it be
The silence that is left in me.
In The Cold of This Here Morning - picture source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/200691727122515616/ I could take this car and go, speeding recklessly down highways, never stop, to get a...
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