The Write Kind
Seldom get it wrong.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Circles inside my mind's eye,
I wonder if I can hang them on my wall
Like I have, you
In a silver frame, with flowers on the side.
One would not be enough
To hold these whirlpools
And I don't know how they would seem
These framed entities, some blue, some white.
And so I am at a loss to think
How these shining boundaries contain you
You, who is alive and dead, at the same time
Within these four walls, how have you come to reside?
Have I, then, for many years
Just admired the frame?
At a distance I may have stood,
And not seen what it contains.
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