Every Night

Poetry is exactly unlike what the word suggests. It is the haphazard cobbling of bits and pieces of emotions, sensations and imagination. The slide on a blues guitar. Colours caught on film negatives. The sound of ivory. The briefest of glances. How skin creases as her face forms a smile. The chance sparkle in her eyes and all the promises held within. Each night a prayer rising towards heaven, and a whispered ‘alleluia’.

Tonight the words don’t form up like they usually do. But all I need is to close my eyes and learn to dream again. You find me once again, needing Your breath, your touch and your quiet voice in the stillness, with every hope and future held in Your hands.

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    • thefathersdaughter
    • July 31st, 2008

    EH!! i just saw this yesterday!! i wanted to show you!!!! but you beat me to it! HAHA where you see from! i saw from er.. fashion blogs… HAHA

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