...be the candle or the mirror that reflects it

She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm 'i the bud, feed on her damask cheek, she pin'd in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like patience on a monument, smiling at grief.

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Location: New Orleans, Louisiana, United States

Saturday, June 28, 2008

The Wall

The writing is on the wall
I asked the question,
You gave the answer.

So I wrote this haiku yesterday. It's actually been brewing in my head a couple days. It's in response to a comment left on my Facebook Wall and kind of solidifies the other haiku - Leaves. The kewl thing about this was I didn't have to edit it at all. I wrote it and all the syllables fell into place. It needed to be read and so needed to be said.

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