and so silence settles
like the dust over a leaf
and the thudud of this beats like in an
underwater effort, trying to make new
footsteps on a wave-washed shore,
but the waves are washing and the sands’
too soft and the sun is setting-
mosquitos linger on the past like
a damp sweat too heavy to make a change
when the dust falls and we
embed ourselves into a new page and
gravity pushes against us but we hold on
to the edge of the page as the fan blows
and it pulls away trying to make new anew and
new until there is nothing left but empty pages
in a big book
and then here we are, in a fresh 2015 that smells of new pages
and unwritten words.
Discover its potential


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