Breath Of A Poetess

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The calmness I inhibit,
Not created by waves,
Of a tattered windsock.
Sounds of the flapping,
And the eventual snap,
Correcting all my doubts.
But the gentle wearing,
Of a used open flag,
As it slides about.
Caressing and whispering,
Mirth,
A moment of unnerving.
While I submit,
Into wonderment,
Of love and longevity.
The fraying, I cling to,
Wondering,
Am I enough.

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66 thoughts on “Breath Of A Poetess

  1. Audrey,
    most of us i’d say have these days and moments of doubt but for me they are
    an integral part of finding and defining ourselves and they are worth the pain
    if pain is what they cause.
    You are exploring deeply and it pays off.

    Ever your

    jf

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