The Old SoundsA Poem by Alfred KukitzWe had egos that seemed secondary to our souls. When the morning's shine fell upon us we listened all day to its silent words. It's the old sounds, the wind in the trees, running water, the insects and the very air that surrounded our souls. The very old sounds kept us together. Today the blather reinforces our egos. © 2014 Alfred KukitzReviews
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StatsAuthorAlfred KukitzDeering, NHAboutYes, I'm still here. Just jazzing up my about me story. Sorry I don't die at the end. more..Writing
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