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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 06, 2018

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Submitted: August 06, 2018




Beautiful things,

all the beautiful things are here.

We can cross the

sand beaten streets

and watch the cotton fly

from limb onto limbs.


Wave thrusts through wind gusts,

strained eyes can rest upon

the sun-bleached crests

collapsing into the troughs of others.


All we hear,

all is dear;

Close folds our eyes,

while Sun lapse to crescent

in second hand time

and retreats under

the Aqueous mirror.


Gone and away,

graced by the blue jay.

Friends of all and next of kin,

all wrapped, and lie down again.

Sun adrift, away through the sky,

Always in departure,

again and again,

always in departure.


So where are these things,

these beautiful things?

Gone with the rainbow,

gone to our dreams.

© Copyright 2019 Margaret Timmerman. All rights reserved.

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