the dance of the ink riddled fingers

Remember the old dreams we used to scream

Posted in the poet-tree by enisea on 22/12/2009

Commitments we spoke
Dreams we claimed
Talk is cheap,
Procrastination, lame.

When you were younger
You dared to hold
The world in your ambitions
You were so bold

Breathe in again
You never got weaker
Just another memory
To make you meeker.

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