ActuallyA Poem by Rolai GiabWrote this in one of my (very, very rare) happy moments that last about 30 minutes. They come every year or so.
I see lines,
a bit like vines. Swirling but straightening, thinner but thicker, longer but shorter. No direction in particular. Beauty itself, perhaps an original creation, put up on a shelf, and forgotten in the shadows. Why? © 2011 Rolai GiabFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on August 17, 2011 Last Updated on August 18, 2011 |

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