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Of Things Private

I see eyes of voices
Hear hearts in trees
Feel the pulse of breezes
Chase scents of green leaves

I visit once a year
Alone
Leave red petals of ceibo
And sing of –
Well –
Of things private –
And fly back home

I feel warmth through stone
love through trimmed grasses
kisses from lost lips on cheeks cold
and taste tears tethered behind black – sunglasses

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17 thoughts on “Of Things Private

  1. Feel the pulse of breezes
    Chase scents of green leaves…nice you set the scene well in those first few lines…and then the pace change is great…drawing us slower to the grave…dang…i feel you there man….

  2. I fell into the opening stanza and carried through in a way you always do to me. always love your words Henry, I am grateful for our connection and appreciate your kind comments and support ♥ ~ Rose

  3. I want to know of these private things, Henry…I have black sunglasses…a beautiful, haunting write that both intrigues and hurts…you do that often with your mysterious pen…a gifted chameleon…as most poets are

    • You didn’t have to read all of these, but thank you. I was thinking I’ve lost all ability to connect. Thank you for taking the time to comment. And yes, I visit this place often as one would miss his mother I guess.

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