Memoirs	

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Alas, Fraser doesn't belong to me. I just
like to play with him now and then (who wouldn't?), so I'll be careful.
Promise! 

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I don't know why I'm writing so much dueSouth poetry lately. I think I've
been inspired by a certain blonde Chicago cop, who's also a poet inside. J
Well, here's the latest. Fraser's looking back on the seasons of his
life...and finds that all he needs is one Stanley Raymond Kowalski (who
can blame him?). Comments welcome: littlepoplin@hotmail.com 

Enjoy! 

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� 

Memoirs  

By: Ellie Leonard 

The tide turns under feet 

sand slips back to ocean 

rain pounds, thunder rolls and the salt stings 

scaly things slip past	

in murky depths of minds 

and I get the feeling I've been here before 

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Blazes the sun purple UV rays 

parching heat and dying of thirst 

seeking shelter oasis refuge 

reddening skin hardening  

waves rise from the road 

and I tread a desert purgatory	

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Frost bruises cracking lips				  

dusting winter apple cheeks 

icicle breathing and shadow seeking 

chipping ice from blood 

flakes swirling flurrying in patterns 

and I remember dead seasons wasted in youth  

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Tears once shredded heart and reason 

broken spirit turning reviving 

seen it all done it all yet still a child 

glimmers of hope beat there again 

touching and smiles come from the one 

and I live spring again in his eyes. 

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