Writing

Another Poem


Twin Blonde Tornadoes

Laughter runs down hills

And out windows

Through golden sun mellow touched

With green landscapes

Blurring memory and fantasy

Yet filling always a happy

Place as settling bones sigh

With ease and reflected happiness

Until, inevitably

Loud calls of anger

Split asunder peaceful contentment

And called upon again to right injustice

That neither giving quarter so upright

In righteous indignation that

Seemingly born from that stone

One must sigh again

With exasperated tiredness

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