Somewhere in between.A Poem by andrew mitchell
The mists of memories spent settle
gregariously on the cellophane of a crinkled mind bearing gifts. On the precipice of time, a thought balanced on the edge, fades to the abyss housed behind the walls of the cranial chamber; too far to reach, too far to relive it.
© 2020 andrew mitchell |
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Added on February 8, 2020 Last Updated on February 8, 2020 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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