Whispers in the rain, promises broken,
Oliphant will, deafening silence now
Resounding through the valley, I hear a
Distant echo, one word, piercing my heart



The form of poetry is a decasyllabic quatrain with no rhyme scheme. Each line has exactly ten syllables, and I have also combined to make an acrostic “WORD”. The last line emphasizes my title…

Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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