Poems
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
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And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
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Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
​
​
Cold Feet
There is a knocking... You hear it. You feel it pulsing through you – slowly… and painfully. It has made you slow down, and deeper down, like you’re falling, stupefied.
​
And the blue haze at the top keeps getting darker, so dark that it’s hard to see your own pale hands or your cold limp feet; and even harder to breathe as you’re filled past the brim, weighing you down, deeper down.
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Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
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Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
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Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
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Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
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Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
​
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Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
​
​
Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
​
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Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
​
​
Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
​
​
Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
​
​
Three & Three
Sweet daughter aged three
Running barefoot through the dew grass
Picking dandelions for your mother
Laughter echoing to and fro
The morning sun hugging
All that you are
Tired mother aged thirty-three
Worn from a week of troubles and no sleep You hear her small footsteps coming “I picked you flowers Mommy.” “Those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” “What’s a weed?”
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I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
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I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
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I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
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I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
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I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
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I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
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I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
​
I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
​
I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
​
I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
​
I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
​
I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
​
I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
​
I’d Like to Believe
I’d like to believe there’s a place we go When our higher selves float out of our bodies into space Awaiting a mystery, a new oasis of life after life Where everything that could be thought is thought And nothing is felt with touch, only intuition An eternal light energizing a new realm of everlasting peace
​
I’d like to believe that the spiritual essence is real in you And somehow you’re able to see me, watch over me, guide me That you’re sending me messages through symbols, objects, people Like a flicker in the lights when I look at your picture Or a gentle touch from a stranger when you’re on my mind I keep asking, “Is it really you?”
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