To the true of heart.

Varying winds high in pleasant altitudes;
aloft notes ring chimes,
whistling melodies which warm and soothe.

Gentle fluttering wings direct and astute;
lithe gale in presence abound,
ringing songs encouraging by reason’s flute.

Carressed belly, the flower smiling and bold;
her laugh — joy brightened,
trumpeting tunes alive in wisdom’s call.

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.

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