I often sit
with my mother and talk
as the sun melts
into the sea
Soon the moon will shine
on our porch
while wooden chimes
echo hollow music
carried by the wind
But we will continue talking
long after words cease
Because family is not chosen
but frienships are
Copyright 2003 liquid_emotion
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/349/5270 on Monday December 01st, 2008 03:13 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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