Moments
Pass in dusty ledges
Fingers trace mottled wood
And stop.
Breath a frame
By frame
Spoken forever
Fall into the shape
Traced, held in wood
In mottled fingers,
Side by side moving breath
To breathe, in
Breaths motion picture
Framing words.
~IW~
I like this one, Belinda. There’s a gentle contemplation.
Leslie
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Glad you like it Leslie. 🙂 Thank you. I am enjoying finding chance to write again
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Don’t stop, we need more please.
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Writing as we speak….
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❤
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Well done!
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Thank you so much! 🙂
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