Monday, June 15, 2015

A Short Poem

watching the well dry makes one thirst,
and willing to kill for those last few drops.
liquid exquisence, the simplest worth,
don't forget the taste.

don't forget the taste of the air,
exhuast and vapor, the ghosts of smoke,
moves through the locks of a child's hair,
remember that taste,

or begin to forget

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