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Thursday, March 19, 2009
Something Left With Silent Footsteps
Careful not to brush a heart string,
Something crept so lightly by
That the heart did not awaken
To the noiseless flight.
Aided by the growing darkness,
And cloaked in dark disguise,
The eyes saw no reflection
As it left before the light.
Soft arts so skillfully mastered,
Love's caresses it did feign.
The light touch felt just deceptions
Like wisps of gentle rain.
Fear left no telltale traces
To be drawn from the rigid air.
The nose smelled no abandon
In liberty so rare.
No prior spoons gave reference
Of feeding subtle change.
The mouth did not detect a thing,
Hid cleverly in its brain.
Only one hint was uncovered
Found in essence, not in form.
The gut felt pricks of loneliness
As the gap was being torn.
When the soul confirmed the absence
Of something from its place,
It cried for its return in time
And searched to fill its space.
Something in the meantime
Had sped miles to find a place
Where happiness grew new each day
With smiles on every face.
Did something every find it?
No one will likely know.
The missing parts of people
Seldom ever show.
Frank Thompson
March, 2009
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