Tuesday, August 24, 2010

writer's block

it's lifting
like a foggy San Francisco morning
i can make out people
and buildings
and trees and birds
and hills in the distance
and mountains beyond those

will you hold my hand
i asked
but you can see clearly forever
you said
i know, but i like how it feels
i whispered
ok then. here we go

the pasture looks so green
from this side

it's as beautiful as
i had hoped

i've already forgotten how
the other side feels

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