whispers fade
a wounded wolf calls out
heaven and hell in my heart
never apart
glowing moon again
waits
a sparrow weeps
eyes glisten on my face
with a trace
of joy
luminous comforts
broken hearts beat
and meet
the mocking bird in my room
soft
still remorseful
gray clouds
pails of tears spill
ferris wheels go round and round
can you feel it still?
. . . but here I go anyway.
Poetry and fiction not intended for the masses — Sam M. Phillips
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