mimicking
the seasons,
volatile fragrances,
elusive winds
with gentle, but
heavy hands.
She,
she,
she,
them,
sentimaental lights
burning in child-
hood dreams, past
landscapes with
innocence's fruits.
They place their
visions in time's
unearthly possession
and distrust man's
intentions. I'm
surrounded by fleshly
angels that don't
recognize the origins
of my wings.
(c)Synnika Lofton 2005
from The Burden and the Gift, Vol 3
The Poetry Juggernaut Movement
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