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Odd Hours I love so many of you recklessly, no olfactory enough no orchid too blooming no setting enough, no grandeur fitting. I have built altars to you for worshiping, strung participles from my heart, putty soft evocative usherings, every silver emotion band aid stripped from me as I sought to shade deep depths from you; instead I was thrill kised-dive bombed-- I surrendered to you. Many children born of this. Many hours on magic walks; steps along the road of ideas, idyllic and ebullient, dizzying and delicious. I dine with you, table set with ancients, and new faces all dressed up for company.. I love you. You replenish me in odd hours and I lay hands upon you silently. In hushed tones I am content to be with you languidly. I leap high and sing in my rooms. I melt to subtle songs song. Your vision's deft before me. Your name: Poetries. |
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