The Poem – Framing Words

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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~

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7 comments

~ ...please don't be an idiot...but say what you need to...~

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