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Love Holds Dear

Writer's picture: t.noblet.noble

Updated: Jan 31



A revisit to older work, to warm up for newer work.


Love.Curled in a fever,

Wrapped in a blanket made of stone;

Made to look like art,

Made to look organic.


Nature coils an invitation.


Inherit.

Own.


Autumn has it’s own way

of defining the moment;

In leaves, in grass,

In mornings that could never disgrace,

Never shame.


I hold the memory like a well worn scarf;

Inhale the familiar scents.

I wonder at how I could keep

something so old,

so tattered, around for so long.

I keep the stone the same way,

But the pond is its reminder of family.


I splash,and love holds dear the pebbles.

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Trish Noble

Writer, Artist, Dreamer.

I design, write, and generally have fun

experimenting and creating things.

Even if I suck at it.

I am a Jungian enthusiast and avid dreamer.

I have four cats.  They all think I'm crazy.

© Trisha Noble - all rights reserved.

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