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there is a pause
in the night a crack to fall into a closet door closed in which there is no key I am the only one to open it it is up to me I get lost here but somehow I'm found I can make the dreams come around and mix in whatever ingredients I decree its a rift a valley into the skin canyons of my past making up me and I populate it with those I miss and would like to see here the snow falls gently but its not cold here the rain falls and its never sad here the leaves change color into the hues I wish to behold here any fruit is always in season and plentiful ripe and ready for my extended hand its my secret land with many gardens and many gently flowing streams its a space where all can be possible and it can change as often as I breathe and no one feels pain here the peace soothes and there's music of every sort filling in the air with joyous sound instinctively I know all their words because the songs were written with friends all the animals I've had and known return to me again and dance with me here-- clouds are for sleeping on the earth stays warm all day hunger and disease have been sent away I visit this land often knowing I know I can always return every one of us has a door which we can open and to which we nightly yearn. legal copyright for this poem 11/18/2020 12:45pm PST time and date stamped and also for this poet Melissa A. Howells and also for this legally copyrighted and registered site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World written straight to the page...editing later....thank you Vote for this poem |
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