There's no one here but the wind and me
we both will sigh and crack and move along
gliding down the pages of forgotten diary
and make each day an unspoken song
read off the boughs and the heart of clouds
written off in speech driven down to reach
mute points like cracks in those empty walls
drawn in thin lines blackened by too many falls
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Added by Poetry Lover
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