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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Wind-Dancing

Leaves,
one hand clapping
in the wind,
wings, bells,
sails sailing,
kites soaring to the clouds.
How huge
the millions of a multitude.
How many leaves
make up my person,
rattling my bones,
filling my veins.

Leaves wind-dancing
at the eyelids of a shore.
I run an odyssey,
to restore
my heart’s long journey,
facing a garden woods
outside.
How long can I survive
watching leaves?
Live their dreams inside,
returning with a healed heart
in spring?

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