Tuesday, 21 July 2009

Expressions

The letters curved themselves
upon the blank white paper
and went to sleep.

Time froze upon the layers
of dust on the old table.

Wind was trapped in the leaves
of the fan.

Some thoughts ran wildly
from the tip of the pen,
Piercing through the calm
of the closed books.

A voice demanded to be heard,
A face wanted recognition.

Everyone - smug, trapped or awakened,
Strives to earn their place.

Come, join the rank.
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