A collection of original poems and photos. I believe that art comes out of humility. Herein lies my crash course of the said matter.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

No More Resorts, Just Home

Riding across the water,
I witnessed the fog burning off the hills,
the lifting of a great weight from my home,
as I watched from far, out on the lake.

Had I forgotten how beautiful you are,
or lost touch with the pulsing memory in my hand in your hand,
that my heart leapt out of its comfort,
and the love in your eyes carried me through?

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