Feelings seem to drag hours through wind.
Dusk blusters across a clearing
where something fizzles,
whizzing round like white lightening in a tin.
Heat congeals on a musty scent of fading flowers.
5.30 almost succumbs,its lumbering parts expire
in a day become tired. The wind seems to list,
loosening into a breeze, then settles.
Air stills, space between trees eases back,
choking on raw emotion.
10 Jul 08
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Nice. Tightly wound around the scene, words act the part, in its conveyance we almost suffocate.
L9, i think, needs fixing.
Can't stop. Off to work while winding down through the breeze of life. I'll consider your suggestion but Opal will probably make me change it anyhow.
Larry Beaufort Scale lark
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