Darkness, aside from a false sea
churning silent waves of fluorescents
into squared majesty
that just happens to be permeated
with envious greens, and a familiar scent
moving slowly over wood, carpeted
in silver, strange and silent gaze
locked on mildly glowing heaven sent
that seems to always subtly amaze.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 110
Tales of Voluntary Madness
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Drop a line, a quip, a snippet, your pants, or an anecdote...just don't drop the soap.