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A Poem

By Victoria WoodburnPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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She rises early, cloaked in brilliance of a new resolve,

To be comfortable under the undying grip of sustaining skin.

A mind fit to seek beauty and set to evolve,

Into a cherishable fruitfulness sought out to win.

Gleaming glass bounces back into the eye,

As to reveal a shining shore illuminated by the red-orange sun,

Reflecting an impossible brightness and breathing a sigh.

The world jolts and jostles about, but she—phased none

Until a stunning sight sets itself into the plane,

Washing over old tides as if they were never magnificent.

The old tide settles itself into discontenting pain.

Here cracks the mirror and freezes still the moment.

Whisked away in the water, the treasure surfaces ashore.

He stands awoken by a radiant bliss,

Hidden of what could hold so much more.

A blank face—curved lip not to miss.

surreal poetry
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