Sunday, December 20, 2009

The sky is not my home.

I not belong
among the mountain tops
that threaten
to break the banks of clouds.

I cannot see
through the thinnest fog
and the secrets
that it shrouds.

I cannot hear in the thin air
the wind howls
to quiet each thought
said aloud.

I cannot speak to the sky
It turns my words to whispers
leaving me with dry lips
and silent vows.

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