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She looks out her window
What does she see?
People moving? No?
She drives down the street, what does she see?
Cars moving? No?
She goes downtown.
Does she see them? people? moving?
It looks like they are moving but are they standing still?
She looks out her window.
There are experiences out there. Somewhere, someone
What experience can I give her?
On that she never had? One she never even thought possible?
After its gone she will have had the experience.
And will still have the memory.
What will she then do?
Will she settle for less?
Or will it become part of the thing to she is looking for that she can’t describe?
I look in her window
I see one inside that is beautiful and intelligent
She is looking, what is it she can’t find?
She can’t describe it, no one there can help her find it.
Inside the window there is a beautiful face.
Behind every beautiful face there has been some kind of pain.
Every nerve in her body was once naked and numb.
Does she know what she came here to get away from?
Is the house vacant and void?
Will she write me a letter Will she write it kind?
Will she put down in writing what is in her mind?
12/18/2005 10:20 am
Nice poem. I hope you'll find someone to share these with. Welcome to blogging.|
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12/18/2005 4:33 pm
The woman in your blog is me wondering where u been all my life. Nice poem. Hotlips|