Clyde A. Wray

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Silence

Silence

Oh I love the silence
when I walk in the dark
to hear my own heart beat
able to count my own pulse
the silence has a smell
all of its own
the city the parks
the forest where I roam alone…
the silence has depth
reaches deep down in my soul
no fear of being there neither lost or alone
it’s like going home
to be with that someone
once long gone


Clyde A. Wray
April 8, 2009
All Rights Reserved
Posted by Clyde A. Wray at 5:06 PM
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Blog Archive

  • ▼  2009 (32)
    • ►  May (4)
      • Fat Account
      • It Is Never Safe
      • The Kiss
      • Don't Ya Just Wish You Could Flush The Lies
    • ▼  April (19)
      • The Poet/The Poem/Baseball
      • Please, Don't Look At My Shoes
      • Louder (Rainbow People)
      • Thicker Than A Pound Butter
      • Sonnet # 221
      • Censorship, Politicians And A Empty Refrigerator
      • Excuse Me, Did You Mistake My Vote As A Referendum...
      • Indifference By Another Name Is Called A Politicia...
      • Help It Appears To Be Contagious
      • Another Mystery, Who, Why and To and From Where
      • The Day The Yellow Marigolds Didn't Arrive
      • Wicked Hot Flair
      • Before The Facts Become A Blur It matters not whe...
      • When Cannons Roar
      • She's Found Wings
      • On The Good Side
      • Silence
      • Sonnet # 220
      • You Gave Them Wings To Fly High
    • ►  March (7)
      • Death Is A Creep
      • Kind Of Makes You Wonder
      • Sonnet # 218
      • Rainbow Colored Ice Cream In A Cone
      • Infrequent Liaison
      • Foul Winds
      • Sonnet #219
    • ►  January (2)
      • In Years To Come Mr. Bush
      • Like Some Strange Magic
 

Clyde A. Wray
All Rights Reserved

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