My love was a letter
With no return address,
Sent through the blinds
Of a mellow cloudiness

Fresh wings, kept
afloat by a tangle of
strings

-lies-

Soaring
until the top
where-
after all-
it is the only place
for a lover to
fall.

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This poem is a work in progress, but after a kind and earnest reminder, today is National Poetry day so I felt obliged to honour this with a few rhymes and silly musings.

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