note

the passing days have

have always drawn me back to a word.

or haven’t you heard?

this metal I wear around my

neck is sentimental,  not philosophical.

it is fate we met in wet green

rain bridge lake park after it is dark.

I bought a blank bound book to

write to you, that bites true.

if calling with positive karma vibes will

be what you need, then you’ll feed.

when I am destroyed by evolved

longing, I shall sing.

before it becomes dark thinking

realistically, i’ll drink some tea.

while we waltz our dancing

selves back home, it would

be a great roam, sharing the ideas

and places we have been,

once or again, seen.

 

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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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