Tuesday, May 19

another poem

My Song

My Song travels at the speed of sound.
There are no words,
Because you can not hear them.

My Heart is silent
When I touch the ground,
The winged can not afford to grow roots.

I Hear the thought of others
Going round and round.
I can not catch them all,
Or I will grow dizzy.

Sometimes I feel if I am too quiet
I will disappear,
Making noise is a way to insure,
I am still here.

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