Circle

May 27, 2005

Glowing spheres of blue glass blown

Five of them spinning, ringing

Dancing to a symphony of their own

Filled with tears, their song is soft

A gentle warmth that binds and heals

It brings forth scents of forests and fields

And a world worth surviving in the circle.


Too bad they were all gone within a year.
Faded, wasted, or taken away.
I lost too much.

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