old damage
with a new face
there is a tertiary peace
for fresh pain in another place
there is a minus
in the minutes
that hold the spaces
an old oak outside the library
still beats with the
letters set by
hands of innocence
a setting, not undone
only strengthened by
the passage of seasons
the loss is felt
in the memory
that is held
too close to
see clearly
with blurred vision
I no longer care to sing along
with the names that change
in the same old song
the rivers speak to me
of mourning
and the mountains, they are
calling me home
image courtesy of Cristina Otero and Pinterest
So beautiful. ❤
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Thank you very much Em🙏❤
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Reblogged this on Brave and Reckless and commented:
Hauntingly beautiful work by Olde Punk of RamJet Poetry
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Thank you my friend
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Wow Dennis. Just gorgeous.
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Thank you Vanessa 🙏💚
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No, thank you. Ugh, these lines. 💚
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I’m weary of saying goodbye to friends 😦
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Oh my friend, there’s no easy answer. I love that you express it. And in such divine ways. And hopefully you can draw some kind of comfort and/or strength from those of us who feel your words 😖 💞 🎶🍻💐🐨
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Bless you Vanessa 🙂
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Thank you! And the richest ones on you!
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Wonderful! I especially like the last lines/thoughts shown.
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thanks so much Eric
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“the rivers speak to me
of mourning
and the mountains, they are
calling me home”
Yes, this
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🙏❤
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Excellent piece of writing! 🙂
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Thank you very much 🙏❤
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