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Untitled

How to tell what is in a heart

Without the mind in the way

How to tell what is felt

If it is thinking that we pay

Confusion has found me

As I am here all alone

Though so many may sorround me

My heart is like a stone

It been carelessly handled

And dropped so many times

That the glue used to bind it

Has withered all the vines

That keep my heart of lost passion

From feeling what it may

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Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

amberlena’s Poems (2)

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amberlena’s Friends (3)