• H. M. L. Swann

Day 104: Poetry


300 Days of Writing

Day 104 Poetry:

The language came and went.


It flowed and burned and boiled and blew.


The tongue rolled. The teeth cut.


The cheeks flexed and parted.


*


There was nothing poetic about the words.


There was no magic in them.


It was the soul,


Who hunted fast,


And crafted something from none.


Сайхан Бичээрэй!


H



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