Hushhhhhhhh. The breeze

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  • Nature

    Hushhhhhhhh. The breeze

    Hushhhh, the breeze I hear,
    Alone the sound so loud,
    But with someone else near, the sound is not so clear.
    It is as if my ears are in a cloud.

    Funny how every day things go unobserved,
    Then something , invisible as a breeze, gains ones delight.
    Why is it one day it is , and another it is obscure?
    Is life such that we have limited sight?

    A breeze can be cool and crisp,
    It can be Hot and moist to the skin.
    It can be brutal and bite, not a lite whisp.
    It can be so inviting, almost a sin.

    Hushhh..the breeze is here.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    CHYRAL’s Poems (4)

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