Beat Of The Wind
R RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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Leaves being blown by an afternoon breeze, shimmering
in the sunlight, looking like diamonds hanging there
looking brilliant, as I write them into this poem.
Thoughts shaking in my mind, in time with the blowing
of the wind, nothing coming to light, just watching as
the breeze blows everything in sight.
Making it all move in rhythm with the beat of the wind,
blowing through the afternoon, not being held prisoner
by man's inhumanity.
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