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Morning Walk

After the storm, the field is not the same.

The water has washed away the whole world
and the earth is dampened.
The scent of mud covers our noses,
filling our eyes with yellow colours.

With the rain come the secrets.
With the rain dissolve the dreams.
And with the rain, we get lost in the secrets of our dreams.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


often leads to misinterpretation, I am going to assume that you are not speaking of a real storm. The color yellow and the secrets uncovered are just metaphors. Is the color yellow, the color of an oppressor? Maybe just a little more of a clue as to the antagonist? Good poem otherwise! ~ Geezer.

This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place

Hiya, Arjiris, (think thats right)

I like that your piece is a snap shot of the moment, and, its kind of uplifting!
The brevity is refreshing, and the fact that you never refer to yourself with an "I" is impressive.


Thank you very much!

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