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By Ian Council | Category :: Poem

Again I wake, again I find, the same string of word stitched to my mind.
Every night and every day the syllables wont go away.
They linger and wait , until I hesitate.
Nimble finger, working thumbs, I know my calling has now begun.
The words leave my mind and join my sight, then on to the next sleepless night.
Again I wake, but this time I find new words burrowed in this time.
Lost in thought my mind became clear, a purpose for every living second of the year.
Filled with desire and delight I Began to write.

By Ian Council | Sep 16, 2013 | Category > Poem >Hope | Comments | Views 3622


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