History
So far away...
history now
The magic...
burns beyond
the ashes on the ground
The magic,
on the streets
in our eyes,
through our lives...
so far away.
The decades flip
as pages to
a short book
The days were run down
like waves before
a clipper ship
the Flying Cloud
Even though...the cargo hold...the essence...
spices, silks, exotic teas
magic, excitement, ecstasy
Like a river I cross in Montana
the bittersweet
Bitterroot.
poem by Midnights Voice
Added by Poetry Lover
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