Wandering Thoughts

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Poetry is the language of the heart; it's the language through which one can reflect on life, death & everything in between.

I’m sitting with my wine,
staring at the stars,
but they’re so very far away.
I will soon be gone.
The stars are here to stay.
I’ve written many poems
I’ve said what I had to say.
Under me lie the bones of
creatures of mysterious ways.



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