Thursday, September 26, 2013

Lenses

Every easy fire to start

Water soaks the air

Each pitch more perfect than the last

Satisfying as the fare.


The feel of mud and laughing sounds

The roughshod play on sacred grounds

Driving fast and living songs

Leaves nothing for regret.


The blackest black and brightest white together leave us empty

Its all the colors in between

The shades of amber and dark green

Staying dirty losing clean

Just take the plate and lick it.










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