And gentle touches of faith
What’s in here?
In this space
In this space between
Within the in between pieces of me
I stare into aging eyes
That know no more
Than every year before
Three days before three decades
Flowers die and seeds don’t always grow
Little by little, I learn
There’s nothing more to know
As water touches tin
And drumsticks hold the same rhythm
I’m here in the herein
ⓒ 2004 Shawn Michael Quinn
ⓒ 2004 Shawn Michael Quinn
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