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Monday, 23 January 2017

[Poem] Of Rolling Hills

The rolling hills, cloud-capped tops, 
They still bear our traces; 
Footprints, bodyprints and sighs, 
They still bear our memories. 

Oh how we danced on steep edges, 
How we tried hard not to fall; 
Tumbling down the rolling hills, 
How we tried hard to hold on. 

But I did wonder what it was like, 
To let go, and freely fall, 
Into the depths intriguing, 
Like how my heart plummeted. 

And I did wonder what it was like, 
To let loose, to destroy the grips, 
To soar towards the silver clouds, 
Like how you lift my spirits. 

The rolling plains, frothy hilltops, 
They still bear our traces, 
Faintly, in scents, echoes and touch, 
They still beckon to us at times.

Copyright © Winepoetess 2017

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