Thursday, April 13, 2006

the little girl

the little girl stood on the hill

the air was quiet, the night was still

torments around her outside in

she had to run

internal din

she found a place cushioned and warm

where she felt so far from harm

it was a lake so deep and black

as she dove in she did not look back

within the liquid artifice

lost alone a place like this

and everytime the anguish felt

in these toxic waters

she would melt




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i am older than dirt and proud of it!!!! i have managed to incorporate my eternal 60's nation spirit with the high tech 21st century world. i am an artist/writer, who dabbles in rhyme, and, sometimes, reason. my passions are my husband, who is truly the wind that ruffles my sails, animals rights, yoga, the beach, waking up in the morning. i find inspiration in too many things to list, and far too many more to remember. i have added sketching, watercolor painting, and photography to my ways of expressing joy and gratitude. from living with a chronic illness, i have learned the beauty of each day, and treat each as another sun salutation, and another chance. P.S. all painting, poems and photographs are my originals karen Lyons kalmenson