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When whistles are shrilling and thrilling the blood,
their echoes hanging in rancid air;
should ever the fear quintessentially bold
and thus ordained, should ever you care,
will follow a heart beat or two steps behind
as rain never floats, or lakes fill with brine
and bitter sweet are the taste you will find
that true love once tested falls foul in one’s mind.

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Perhaps it is a matter of trust?
Sometimes words fall into my head. They did this on my way home this evening as I watched the most poignant skies over the blue hills around town begin to release their tears. (I really should be concentrating on driving, especially in those conditions).


poem, love, test, trust, true love


  • Craig Shillington
    Craig Shillingtonalmost 5 years ago

    Oooooooooooooo!!!! :O

  • hmmm, interesting reaction Craig. :o)

    – Anne van Alkemade

  • Craig Shillington
    Craig Shillingtonalmost 5 years ago

    Just made me think of the ol’ “A Woman Scorned” saying (thinking of Mother Nature) ;)

  • could well be!

    – Anne van Alkemade

  • Tania Rose
    Tania Rosealmost 5 years ago

    great read, Anne

  • thanks Tania. :)

    – Anne van Alkemade

    OWLGIRL69almost 5 years ago

    I really like this Anne speaks straight to my heart at the moment. You are so lucky to be able to remember what comes into your head as you drive, I really need a dictofone because one minute its there and if I dont capture it, it will be gone just as quick!

  • But I must look strange to other drivers, sitting at traffic lights saying the same sentences over and over and over until I can stop and write them down. lol.

    – Anne van Alkemade

  • Alison Pearce
    Alison Pearcealmost 5 years ago

    Fabulous work Anne!! So very visual!

  • wow, thanks Alison. That’s what I was trying for in an obscure way.

    – Anne van Alkemade

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