Monday, 13 April 2015
NaPoWriMo 13
Wanted by the world am I,
oft in desperate short supply,
life's pursuit and worries' root, more
dear than any heap of loot,
hid in all the simplest things, like
flying kites or plucking strings,
found in unexpected places,
remedy for dismal faces,
onto me you all must cling,
I am a fleeting, fickle thing,
find me and the stars you'll bless, for
I am your own happiness.
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Paint Poem
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