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Still
Sometimes
Early morning
On the island is
So still not a leaf
Stirs, not a flower
Petal is in motion,
Birds sit stone like
As if in silent prayer,
The air has a damp aroma
Of sweetness mixed with the
Tangy bite from the ocean, whos
Noisy licking of the shore seems to
Be in soft suspension in honour of the
Scene, so softly quiet that I can hear the
Echo of your heartbeat miles and miles and
Miles away.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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