Author: Simona A. Brinson
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When the Rain Stops (Sonnet) The heavens wept the tears I could not shed,And every cloud recalled your fading name;The storm drummed sorrow through my weary head,Till every dawn and dusk became the same.Each drop became a memory set free,A whispered promise carried on the breeze;The flooded earth reflected only me,A lonely soul brought trembling…
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The Wolf and The Sparrow Beneath the pines where moonbeams played,A lonely wolf through twilight strayed.His silver coat caught evening’s glow,As silent winds began to blow.He wore no crown, he sought no fame,Yet every forest knew his name.With careful paws and amber eyes,He watched the stars adorn the skies.Upon an oak, both small and fair,There…
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Breedlove Breedlove walks with pockets fullof rose-red seeds and cyclamen.He plants them where the sidewalks crack,then hums until the bees come back.He sprinkles kindness by the gate,leaves laughter where the lonely wait.His hands smell sweet with garden rain,with mint, warm soil, and sugarcane.He tucks soft wishes under treesand sends them sailing on the breeze.By morning,…
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Solitary I sit alone beneath the waking sky,Yet, loneliness does not settle here.The wind brings stories through the trees,And sunlight rests warmly on my shoulders.In solitude, my thoughts grow quiet,Like clear water after rain.I hear the steady rhythm of my heartAnd remember that my own company is enough.No crowd is needed for joy to bloom;No…
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The Frailty of Fog Fog tiptoes softly over the hill,Draped in a gown of silver chill.It tastes like dew on a sleepy tongue,And hums where spiderwebs are strung.It curls through trees with feather-light feet,Cool as a ghost and faintly sweet.The sun gives chase with fingers of gold,And fog grows shy, no longer bold.One warm breath,…
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The Woman on the Road How many times the hammer fell,she could not name, she could not tell.The nights had blurred to one long bruise,a life of wounds she did not choose.The house stood black against the moon,its windows watching her ruin.Behind its walls, his curses crawledlike spiders through the darkened hall.She fled without a…
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Suit of Armor She walks as though she fears no fight,With sharpened words and eyes of night.Her shoulders square, her voice held low,So no one sees the hurt below.She wears her anger like a shield,A warning sign she will not yield.Her laughter rings both hard and bright,A blade she carries through the night.They call her…
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Brown smells like memory.Not the kindyou keep in photographs,but the kindthat lives in your handslong after you’ve washed them,that rises without warningwhen rain strikes old woodor autumn beginsits slow conversationwith the earth.Brown smells like dead leaves.Not dying—dead.Curled into themselves,soft with surrender,becoming the dark languageroots have always understood.Brown smells like bark,its rough skin carryingthe patience of…

