RootsA Poem by SerianaRoots I don’t really know why it happens, Or why it works so fluidly. The words, slick with the swell of feeling, naturally leak from between my eyes. Slowly, they meander their way to the dry, flat parchment … Below. Cozy and wrapped up tight, the tiny letters gather, resonating in tidy little groupings. A tendril, here, curling… A filament, there…. freely afloat. All… ever-flowing and reaching a fever pitch, They spin out, invisibly from the spiked sphere of commonplace. A stretch, a reach… a mad, cluttering rush to be a part of something… something out there. Somehow, gently and carefully they escape. Solely, simply to be heard. © 2015 SerianaFeatured Review
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Added on March 21, 2015Last Updated on March 21, 2015 Author
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