RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Evenings still as a placid lake, rock me into dreams of yesterday when I was younger.
Tell-tale mornings offering vestiges of an opportunity to be a quiet talent on earth.
Screaming in silent words on paper, developing sincere thoughts.
Delivering many ideas to people all over the whole world.
Choosing the words from a photographic memory screen, holding onto every picturesque memory held inside my mind.
Focusing with an intensity that heightens elliptical nighttime songs.
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