That soil of mixed
heartache and joy.
These Leaves that
languish in a landscape
of toil and troubles,
force me to search
for pastures new...
Perhaps a view of the sea
while my earth turns to sand.
Crabs will walk on the surface
of what should be me.
These the things I hope for
as my seeds of change
move delicately on
in the subtle breeze...
or the storms of life
carry thee far and wide.


Friday, 26 October 2007
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WITCH


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