Wednesday, December 26, 2007

this is no haiku story

I remain still.
Landscape passes me by
leaving its marvelous wake.
I feel old and renewed.

I lean against my seat
and let the sun rays pamper me.
I want to run away
but something drags my feet.

Movement rocks me.
I am in a cradle,
I am in a womb.
I'm safe when I move.

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