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are there songs
the swallow knows –
as breath against my ear
the poetry of doves
who can hear
a string of lines
only pines
are made to understand
notes beneath
the silences I fear

story yet unwritten
of yesterday –
moments stretched
to fill eternity
a touch
falls unnoticed
as wings upon the sea –
to find I never told you
what I whispered
to the breeze

are there words
I’ve still to ponder –
trapped beneath my skin
truths to breach the night
lest I pretend
there is nothing left
to make a noise
no feelings I can hide
songs I cannot hear
above the tide

. . .