Each day Time teaches me an old lesson
Withered and unclear on the white paper
Of the diary…
Will my moonstruck talk please?
I ask you…
Let no answer drop from your lips…
There are gestures of pain
Woven into our life and love
That tell me to take heed…
They say take your heart too.
The one that is stale and hardened now
Hide it in your small fist…
But do not move your soul more than an inch.
Warm it near the logs one more time
Its the needle touch of the iceberg tip…
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