some days are fog-filled journeys into muteness
The Deep Sleep
gauze days are milky with fogwhere minds are scrambled
and voices are weak
not one will speak
for all sound is absorbed
and muted into cotton
those days are never forgotten
but the memory is stolen
lost in the mist of mazes
lingering, hoovering, smothering
the life that once thrived
when the sun was alive
burning away
the heaviness of the deep sleep
awakening the colors of life
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
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Written on 2008-08-20 at 06:44
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