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What’s Real?

He collects a strange assortment of things

things no one else can see

they sparkle, glow, and live with glee

soaring upon wobbly wings

 

They traverse all sorts of pathways,

the wise know to avoid

creating untold entrees,

waiting to be employed

 

They start as simple things,

a touch or smile maybe

they flow upon glowing wings

creating moments of ecstasy

but soon enough, you’re in the rough

wishing for memory

 

Categories: Modern Poetry Poetry Uncategorized

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abnormalvaverage

I'm a high school English teacher in Texas. I also hold degrees in radiography and radio and television broadcasting. Though I obtained certain knowledge and skills from my prior degrees, I do not currently use them.

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