The Symphony Rests

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Naked trees make me sad

“Hold on,” I pine

but

their arms extend

grasping nothing

letting go

airy breezes whip up

cut through

and

the Symphony rests

barren hope

“oh, to be clothed in Majesty”

must brew

til time again

paints outstretched arms

in radiant

LIFE.

 

Paula Antonello Moore, Prose. Copyright: Tuesday, October 24, 2017.

Image: Naked by P.A. Moore.

 

 

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