Too Much Being Alone

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The imagination stretches its own limits when there is too much time spent alone.

Submitted: June 24, 2008

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Submitted: June 24, 2008



Too much of being alone breeds thoughts of fireworks shooting in imagination!
The fireworks form visions that even dreams are afraid to show:
Visions of little people wearing yellow and white, dancing in the purple sun while golden trumpets play a blue melody.
What is this music but pink petunias screaming in pain, green maples dying in heat.
The things of being alone are only red blotches of anger on the face of unrequited love.
Tones of undiscovered peace can flow when the river of hate is subdued by summers drought which is so elegantly sought for, longed for.
The small sliver of moon may bring answers or perhaps only glimpses of what may come in the lovers eye that you have now chosen to deny.
Somehow the stars have chosen that this is the time, the night to shine brighter, as you may be too much alone.

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