Poem -

The minutes often burn.

The twisted hand
of the clock

Begs my mind
rewind

Time merely
frozen

My heart
of hearts

Is blind

Love is often
Cruel

The minutes
Often burn

Time of love
Not given

Something
One must earn .

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Comments

author
Nardine Sanderson

Trouble is beautiful, it was a thought, which became a write, try not to think to hard about what it is you want to say,
my mind speaks in riddles it's often annoying, but now that writing has become my life plan it's not so bad, I'm enjoying it now,
love you precious girl, nardine xoxo

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