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T O P I C R E V I E WFromEastkisses will be erased with salt,eyes washed off and new ones grown scratch your names on the walls of old, forgotten forts, on the side of an abandoned, broken boat by the shore,on the back of a rock in the winter when the sacred fire burns the memories off your limbs, this eternal earth, like a little girl’s doll with keen ears,will keep your names EllynlvxWell, Nothing Green can Stay, but some Memories are Pure Gold. EllynlvxUh, or Vice Versamirage29FromEast... I have read your poem over and over again... wonderful FromEasthmm... just a hint - winter is often symbolic of death in poetry PearltyI feel staunch metamorphosis within the clues, imprints, and symbolic trails left open to follow- found within this poem. I love pieces like this which stimulate thinking... mirage29Winter is death, but Death has beauty in its breakdown.... Not always apparent from the surface of things.Ellynlvx FromEastThanks all RandallGood stuff!FromEastThanks Randall
scratch your names on the walls of old, forgotten forts, on the side of an abandoned, broken boat by the shore,on the back of a rock
in the winter when the sacred fire burns the memories off your limbs, this eternal earth,
like a little girl’s doll with keen ears,will keep your names
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