Somewhere the strange
sigh of the
wind moves
the dried-out
leaves in
a patch of
buttery sunlight
Somewhere a train
whistle screeches,
long and solemn,
as it approaches
the last
stop of its
long and winding
day
Somewhere the weekday,
rush-hour mob
of citizens
push their way
through the hubbub
in the
finite cycles of
their
monotonous lives
Somewhere light is
reflected off
the surface
of a pond
and I become
aware
of the passing seconds
and, also, of
their woven
melodies
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wow…this is sooooooooooooo nice.
Thank you! I will email you.