Wednesday, 28 May 2014

Not all those who wander are lost.

                                     
                                        ( After, hay-on-wye and the golden valley)
                                        .
Everything can be suddenly changed,
the crazy doodles of the heart,
in beautiful valleys, trees,
find smooth tempered words,
make up for the lengths, that we take,
to hide ourselves, from minds archive,
with  distracted voices of calmness,
we can leave a trail of thought,
follow the untethered leaf,
and later make a poem,
under the muttering sky,
catch the stars falling,
being grateful that,
we can still breathe.

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