Posts
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I'd Give you the Moon
If I could, I would give you the moon.
in hopes you wouldn't leave me so soon.
I would gift you what most chase,
and keep it forever in your grace.
When night falls, I'll gift you the stars,
and I'll call the night sky ours. -
The Season of Ice
As a child, I would watch the snow melt-
and no matter how I felt-
I knew all good things must come to an end.
Winter was my favorite seaon,
snow gently falling onto my face,
like cold, tiny kisses from the sky. -
Melting
There is no cloud in sight,
to block out the setting suns light.
The suns rays reflect off of the snow.
Lighting up the wintery sand.
Silence fills the air, but there's no doe-
in sight, on this sun kissed land.
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The Wood Nymphs
When the sun sets,
And the moon is high in the sky,
The naiads swim to the surface-
of their watery home.
The moon's pale light reflects-
off of the sea of stone,
They look out past their home. -
The Naiad's Song
In the evening, on a rainy day,
The willow trees weep.
Underneath the willows, dryads stay.
They are peaceful as they sleep.
Wind pushes the willows as rain-
gently hits the ground, naiads sing. -
Roses
The world is a rose,
it is quite beautiful,
but its thorns hurt.
The wind sings songs of gold,
that never seem to mold,
but behind each pretty lyric,
is a warning you should listen to.
Loves
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The Harvest Moon
As the days fade from September and into October
so the leaves fade from the trees
which is to say
sometimes tearing away with a gust of wind
other times trickling away slowly
like a faucet that never stops completely -
In the Autumn
Everything begins again.Over and over, the seasons come and go,
however, the canopy of leaves strikes more beautiful
in the Autumn.
And the best feeling
is a cozy one,
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Things of Which I am Certain
Certainly, I am uncertain about more things than I am certain.
But that does not mean there are no things of which I’m certain.
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The Dance of Love and Hate
Love is a river, its current flowing fast,
Its depths unknown, yet teeming with life that lasts.
Beneath the surface, secrets lie in wait,
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On Moths and Butterflies
You must never touch a butterfly
and fear its fragile wings
for if you touch a butterfly
what horrors your touch brings
The dust glitters as it falls
and the insect starts to wilt
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The Eldest of the Seasons
if life is but a dream for the dead
may you visit us during autumn, the eldest of the seasons
letting your fragile bones be exposed to the crisp air of october
letting your fingertips run over the bars of the cemetery gates