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A Personal View
A moment might be
a thousand different things.
I wanted to be right there.
When I wasn't, I always knew
where to find me.
As in a series of still photos,
I stood at the edge,
so close
if I reached out,
I could touch the world.
A gentle wind brushed
through my hair.
Rocks, waves, clouds,
no two were the same.
Gone in an instant.
A train ride.
A hush after the wakening.
By
Stella JonesSee your own work here!
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