Friday, June 15, 2012
In the morning after
In the morning after,
Soft light disappears here in the cocoon is many that seek laughter.
In this delicate mending of different threads,
That folds and folds till no cloth is left.
We write till no more words make sense,
And in the burden of those heavy stories
Makes the eyes of the children weep.
We seek salvation in the pages of words that disappear
in blank pulp and hard spines.
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