Open Poetry #35 |
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Weekends. |
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Goldenrose Member Elite
since 2003-05-30
Posts 3665![]() |
Oh, how drear the weekend, of time passed so slow. Not knowing where to attend, or even where to go. Wrapped up in books, in music and in sleep, images of people's looks, in sleeping dreams of deep. Awake, dour, chuntering, not filled with happiness, in shadows i am loitering, a nothing world, blackness. Love comforteth like sunshine after rain. (William Shakespeare.) |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
understanding this well at least I have my work on weekends to keep me busy, if not, I'd go crazy. ![]() |
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