Copyright 2010, Mark Lawrence, All Rights Reserved.

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Shouting for the echo

                  Empty room,

                  Bare boards,

                  Sixty watt sun.

                  Years have counted here,

                  Upon my face,

                  Counted on my stranger's fingers,

                  Enumerating lazy days.

                  And I have let the minutes pass,

                  Hours slip,

                  Moments slide,

                  The tide has turned,

                  Burned upon the shoreline,

                  The ashes of a past,

                  And I'm waving,

                  Drawn to sea,


                  Not for you,

                  Not for me,

                  Just shouting for the echo.

by Mark Lawrence