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Taliesen Sterry 2013

The Board of Woods

The news board hung from the brick wall,
The script of words told me where to go.
A juice box sat on its crown,
An old straw in the top.
Paint worn on its sides,
From years of rough use.
There it hung,
In wait of care. 


The sun's rays beating down,
Filling my body with warmth.
Clear, cloudless skies,
Engulf the small town
The cool sand melds between my toes,
Salty water surrounding my body.
Leaving the complex town behind me,
Full of people rushing about,
As I remain here.
Remaining in silence.

Harsh Reality

Young fall,
As stones fly,
Why is this a game?
Without a map,
Attack drives;
Finally in flight.
Watching and wandering,
Families turn,
From what will be perfection,
Once the memories are made.

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