Open Poetry #47 |
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Emily |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
She had her skirt from her mother That said I love the way your hair Water under the sand Hey, Emily Your eyes are coming through me, again That long white shadow of yours Is starting to become the neighborhoods Her five fingers Calling each letter of her name For the city to hear Emily heard her shadow was nearby But the bells of the southern church Never said a word Emily touching her right side Like the low bridge of autumns wind Waiting for winter to begin. |
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© Copyright 2011 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
easy1 Senior Member
since 2010-05-22
Posts 1209Southeastern USA |
She reads just a bit like a drunkard's guardian angel on a lake effect snow day, yay. Tomer, I do suggest that you somehow get these poems published. Yours is a talent certainly worthy of this. |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
Easy, your comments bring a smile and are taken to heart. I will undoubtedly try. Nothing brings me more pleasure than writing. Take care. Cheers Tomer |
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