such as this
By lost child
it is when the sky changes to a colour a texture a taste such as this that i remember sitting in that weeping bent tree wishing i could fly when i looked then to the water's stare it swirled and called for me to fall free from the burden of myself you held me there dead in your arms never letting me falldedicated to a friend whose eyes speak more than he ever will, and never saw my despiration that cold day in november. i climb up there at times now, when the world fits too tightly and i need to see things from a different angle Written November 10th, 2001 © on Nov 09 2001 08:41 PM PST 18 • 0 • 8
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"it is when the sky changes ..."