poetry by j matthew waters


they fly by as streaks of light
zipping through the city
cruising in and out of sight
sometimes pausing like shadows
inside innocent songs
other times resting within sounds
of desperate poetry

they are neither real nor imagined
but they are certainly alive
much like the wind
hurtling through the night
with nothing near or far
preventing it from existing at all

april two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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