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Poetry By: bobthebuilder

Just an idea, thought I would try to describe it in a different style of poetry. I hope it flows.

Submitted:Nov 26, 2011    Reads: 73    Comments: 26    Likes: 10   


Though they are so close,
less than a breath away,
they are always just out of reach.

We know they're coming,
sure as the sun,
or waves upon a beach.

We glimpse them often,
while in our dreams,
or out the corner of our eye.

Always surprising,
always new.
Will we laugh or will we cry?

The next to come
may be like the last,
or may be our last, that blows!

They line up behind,
they line up ahead.
Which line is longer, who knows?

We see them coming,
but we can't see them,
these footprints into time.

One by one,
they lead us up,
the stairway of moments we climb.


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