A Journey Interrupted
The Poetry of A.g. Synclair
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Livingston, Montana 8:23 a.m.
when I went away that blue morning
you were ripe as November
and I was scarred
there was no air
but enough sunlight for a lifetime
so I wished it away
and the rain
with it's tender hands, held me
under a blood orange Montana sky
©
2011 A.g. Synclair
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