Poem 43 - Dust Filled Wind
The wind of the past,
Keep it's place,
It never leaves,
Yet doesn't show it's face,
The wind of memories,
Drift through my mind,
But it will one day stop,
I'll draw the line.
Eventually.
The dust of what I used to be,
What was,
And what shall never be.
But dust can be blown away by wind,
And wind moves on.
Well, a new style I'm going for here. Hope the measly... 0 of you that actually read these will like it.
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