LINGER...

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LINGER...

Linger, like the mysterious shadow trailing behind,
Like a dog following it’s master’s footsteps,
Like an empowering scent, lasting forever.
Linger, like the wintry December air
Like the blazing heat of summer
Like the golden joie de vivre of sunset
Like the stillness of the night.
Linger. Stay behind.
For me.

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The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

zatarra’s Poems (2)

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Diminishing Sanity 0
LINGER... 0