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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


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
How long can I survive
watching leaves?
Live their dreams inside,
returning with a healed heart
in spring?

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