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Dec. 3, 2008 The bright smile, the good crisp walk, and the neatly pulled back hair. The evening doves, gently landing way back from the pier, where the sand is soft, where the salt air all but listens to your thoughts. The grapes, the avocados, the purple plums, blood oranges, and muskmelons; all of them sacred and golden, waiting to be discovered and rediscovered. Even sweet melancholy after she has left, or after the summer light has gone, because now nobody is where she used to park, because now mean autumn leaves shrivel and talk mean talk down alleys and industrial corridors. The horse, or a book of horses, both the book and the horses strong and sure and somehow valorous. Blankets cotton and the space between waking and dreaming. ------------ About the Author: For more of Brian's short stories, visit his website: http://www.freewebs.com/storyandstory/. Email Brian Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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