Lydia’s Poem

(I met a girl named Lydia by the pool in San Francisco. She said she was a poet. I said so was I. We drank beers and swapped lines of this poem. One line is hers, and one line is mine, and so on. There was never anything sexual or anything like that, just poetic. Then, we went our separate ways never to be seen or heard from again. Cool chick. Poetry. The writer’s version of a jam session.)

Her wings drip tips

Sweet angel lips

She flies, sweet grace

Through angel skies

In true, she flew

Around you

Maybe you knew

That place in space

That captures every hue

Of power, magic, joy and love

Singing sorrow from above

Pure as the dove

In her god sent flight

Showering the sign

Of peace and light

As we wandered into the night

But we’ll be alright

Just turn you yearn

For being victimized



In the steam of dream

All that you’ve seen

Or all that may seem

In angel world

Time is swirled

The knowledge in your heart reigns

As for once, pure freedom is obtained

and all that you’ve been caught in

Or taught in

Like a memory it swims




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