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the poetry of Charles Fry

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24 August 2010

castle in the mist

I just can't bring myself
to write today
the words don't flow
the lines don't thyme

we stop on the dark shore
and watch the crabs scurry by
watch the two fishermen in the dark
count the waves as they wash our feet

you keep saying that we won't work out
that the path is too long
that the wind is too strong
that I am too much not you

we stare at the moon
bathe in its light
watch it hide behind that cloud
count its reflections in the sea

and then we continue
advancing through the darkness
approaching the unknown
your hand beside mine

 each morning   i come in peace   with one final kiss   looking for you   castle in the mist   Bakery Square   dreaming of you   airport   black and white   It must have been a dozen years since we last spoke.   Trudging down the street.   one more day   my guitar hands   what a night.   Why did they need both the Atlantic and the Pacific?   as this morning's light   the king