cactus, desert


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The city lights
are topaz stones, glittering
in a necklace woven of city blocks.

Sky is painted
night and water, glazed
form a pink canopy over the sleeping.

The black water running,
river hitting river, roaring;
a deep rumble in the tired night's throat.

One of the parts of my life which has always been a passionate love affair has been writing. I am, at heart, both a writer and an artist, and I don't even know what it would be like not to write. Being at the Library so much meant I went to a lot of writing workshops, met with Writers in Residence, found lots of great people my age whose love of words matched my own. Some of the first people I considered very good friends were borrowed from a library environment. The poem above is one of mine, an older one. Thought it might be enjoyable for you all to read.
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