A star, a comet, a falling star.
A right word, a wrong word, a word of love.
Dignity, richness, semplicity.
A trumpet, a guitar, an old piano.
A caress, a kiss, a slap in the face.
A pencil, few bullets, a camera.
A thought, a nightmare, a dream.
A rush, a fall, a break.
A journey, a return, a getaway.
A forest, a desert, a mountain height.
A song, a television, a movie.
Freedom, hate, love.
A brother, those women, one mother.
A novel, a lie, a poem.
Something makes me live.
Something makes me die.
_Hugh S. Graves_
Milano, Italy, Nov. 2011
© Max S. Volonte’
Photo Friday this week’s challenge:
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