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On life and its vagaries

The road

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The black asphalt does the magic

Of producing a milky way out of the sun

As I work with it, red flowers bloom

On the two-way for me alone to see

 


They are tricky to observe in the glare

Yet I catch a glimpse of them now and then

They are ethereal sometimes, fading,

Yet often flower in the sun like lamp posts

 


They whisper strange things to the air

“Here we were, even at this spot,

And there they were coming towards”

I shudder and keep going

 


The road is a strange flower garden

That deals only in red roses

The galaxies that it displays

Are full of souls it has caught

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Written by Sam

November 24, 2009 at 7:06 pm

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