you write
that you are ill
feverishin some narrow
foreign bed
tangledin dim
damp sheets
sun steamingthrough a dingy
window
and I hopethat you are not
entangled so
alonewhat cannot
be held must be
freely given
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lovely... if only i could weave emotions into words half as well.
Posted by: Anne | 28 August 2007 at 12:40 PM