(Chopin’s Ghost)
THE kiss of cold
–ness froze my soul
a tin can kicked
beyond winter’s road
Hands in pockets
did not abate the shiver
ice-shattered thoughts
as I walk alone down
My cobble-path stones
across the way as I walk
and through a golden lilt
window-soul I hear
Chopin playing on air
My friend-soul I’m told
kissing my footfalls
– – – _ – _–> as I go
:: 04-28-2014 ::
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About EPRobles
Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love...
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