365 Days · Poetry

197 – Land Mine

Shy music in numerous plethoras
And everywhere there are stories
Of war things, and treasure findings
On yards and yards of crossed lines
A spell that cannot be seen binds
So somehow magic finds us together
And serves to remind of short time
Simple passing of rhymes and the
Metaphor in a batch of aged wine
Life lived in a field of land mines
Each explosion a collision with time

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