IT'S NOT A GAME

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  • Love

    IT'S NOT A GAME

    Oh, how the wind called out your name with her strength at my back, that strong voice I hear in my soul.
    It's not a game became everything seems the same.

    Just a slow walk down memory lane brings out the smell of you, Oh Yes your soft touch, glowing eyes and loving spirit.

    The wind keeps blowing in my face, reminding me of you.  It's not a game, everything seems the same.

    The cool smell of the summer breeze makes me feel hold again, reminds me that love had the strength of many windy nights and tree bending days.
    It's not a game, everything seems the same.

    Now the wind crease to blow today, I walk along the path of life with loneliness, but then comes tommorrow and maybe that wind will blow in my face and remind me that it's not a game, everything seems the same. 

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    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

    Bob84by’s Poems (1)

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