A Poem on the Website of
the Red Dirt Writers Society

Making Sense
by D. J. Russell (Mar 2007)

I spy
With my non-withered
A woman, a child,
Roses growing wild
In a field

I hear
The voice of God
Moaning through the trees
Answering the pleas
Of the occasionally

I taste
And savor with my
Memories of childhood -
Cotton candy freshly

I smell
The lingering fragrance
Of morning
And the faint scent of her
Fresh Ivory-scented

I touch
The whisker-stubble
Of my fatherís face
If only in my memory
He lives

My soul
Drinks in what is today
Or what is to fade away
And is painted vividly
In the primary colors
Of my senses

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