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My favorite place.

Poetry By: sisilia curuso

The pleasant feelings of your favorite place.
(picture is the true place of the poem)

Submitted:Oct 14, 2012    Reads: 22    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

During a pleasent travel along chacole colored stones

i stumble upon a large maple tree drizzeling sapling down the edges
seasoned bladed foliage sauntering down falling slowly towards the lush tangles of grass
i open my favorite hard cover filt with inspirational motivation and deep fictional mystery
my head falls against the the hard cracked wooden stump knocking down leaves of red, green and orange
my eyes gleam and glow, a light baulb over my head has over filled my mind with rushing imagination
the world is my oyster, a whole new horizon of ideas and childish dreams
i spring up and get to work, slushing around leaves under my feet, crackles chomping under my soles
a pile is what the world of small minds would invision, to me, it was a masterpiece of childhood
deep breaths, clamy hands, heart racing, lumpy throat. i close my eyes and leap towards my fears
the breath knocked out of my lungs and escaping my body. i lay staring into the clouds
smelling the maple wraping around the crisp breeze. nothing at this moment could feel better.
in my favorite place.


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