No Title, September 2009

Memories fade, scars heal

Leaving behind their turmultus reminders

Of things less than beautiful

Sitting in silence, as the autumn wind blows

Listlessly through the tree tops

Words spill forth onto this page.

A storm is on the horizon.

The black bulbous clouds

Billowing in from their journeys across the plains

A cleansing, new beginning is riding

Those menacing clouds

Brought forth only through this

Purging violence, and destruction.

The sky glows orange in anticipation.

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