Monthly Archives: August 2013

The note

He wrote his love on a post-it
Stuck it on the door
Left the keys on the counter
And was seen no more

She woke the next morning
Tumbled of thoughts
Read the words on yellow paper
And was forever lost.

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The artist

The details in his work
Makes perfection seem guilty
Of fault and wrongful doing

Faded away by comparison
He knows nothing of great nor beyond
Sees only what others do not

Time trickles as sand runs
Through open hands and fingers
He learns only when day is gone.

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