General Poetry posted September 19, 2017

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once upon a time there was a writer

age that has no memory

by Walter L. Jones

,into the dark on man cool and hard wheat leaps and time asleep we just chased across the land ponies running wild have tired and have smiled we the writers in this land watch the words wash away with somebody and I tired and old call me fingers of gold cool. What do I do just children that smile at me we tell stories under an apple tree and they laugh and giggle and bring back some riddles of a times that used to be we'll come my child and hold me call me and see me there come and remind me of the world's of gold in the air 4 * just a memory across the sand and takes away the pain and misery of this thing that we call Amanda my fingers are cold and the keys they sing to me of a time when Mike was much better a time when I was pretty and the days they come and go it's on it reminds me that's a living in my soul just a short while to be love and understanding every word that you will see the crustal tomorrow the love that smile

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