She of an age, not young
nor old, she knows he
knows, her lines and eyes
he pins within a decade
He shows his own, tells
who asks, yet as if, he
not believed, she says
(more wish) he can’t be
No time to tell, no hand
to hold, line after line
she feels, he too, soul bites
no sound, no bodies.
More cryptic, more rhythmic every time.
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Thank you, Basilike – I try!
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And succeed!
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Nice blog
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Thank you.
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Loved it.
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Great! Thanks, Bojana – I picked up you’re having that ankle of yours checked out, wish you well my friend.
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I did, and going back there tomorrow again. It’s all swollen. The torture goes on and on.
Thanks, Eric. You’re so sweet.
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Let me know how you get on my friend.
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You’re about to read soon. Patience, please.
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Wow! So blunt yet has a kind of mystique to it. That’s how I felt it anyway. You are such an expert at this. I stand in awe.
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Thank you very much, Lorraine – good to know I got the balance right with this one!
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Splendid! I love it!
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Thanks, G – I seem to have found my touch again with this one!
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You certainly did 😊
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Love it…and I do see the cryptic writing and that is what I love about your work. 🙂
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Thanks, Charlie – it’s the way l like most to write – and I’ll be listening to you post later -it’s a bit early to have the volume up in England.
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I loved the melancholy feel of this, though I’m unclear what happened in the end. A lost opportunity?
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This a take on internet liaisons – where words and feelings outweigh the norms of looks and age – a place where souls exchange – and as is the nature of such liaisons, little happens in the end, save memories. Have a good weekend, Diana.
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