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bitter winds blow through my hair
whipping it around, shaking my head
dislodging memories from my skull
leaving them to fly freely amongst dreams
to float to the stars on moonbeams
or land in pockets of poets
moonlight fills the empty spaces
condensing into thoughts
Creative Commons License
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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Author's Comments

this is how poems are born, how dreams are made, from stardust and moonbeams, all natural.

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October 15
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