Monday, September 27, 2010


volumes of those archaic days get opened now
the dust billows off like snow
my sight is laced with days of old
traditions rise. traditions i used to know
feelings familiar with hope
wrapped in snugly in a love soaked cloak
i tremor from the test of reality
despise emotions to get the best of me
but you feel so real you see
and i can only hope
it's as true as you say it is.

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