Let Go

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  • Lost Love

    Let Go

    Easy come, easy go,
    Through the wind, feelings flow.
    Above the trees, into the night,
    Hushed voices, hurried flight.
    Behind closed doors, secrets are kept.
    Through the hours, traces are swept.
    Whispering willows along the way,
    Singing songs to the tune of grey.

    As the clock nears dawn, time awaits.
    Slowly but surely, it finds its fate.
    Hold on tight, just once more.
    Slipping away, thoughts to explore.
    Hold on again, don’t let go.
    Listen now, let the feelings flow.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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