Lee Thomson

My Guru (& the intrusive face) In the wilderness of surrounding social certainness, Exiled; an audience to tables of my inedibles—bright cheeses, canapés green&black olives, distracted; I bump into the doyen of words, guru to a literary soul: Emma. Standing next to me on sacred ground. Breathlessly, I listen to your wordless sight-filled breathing. I would drop my fashion jacket (with sculptured peace sign) into any muddy lino. Leaning my hand to balance Your ephemeral thoughts, celebrate your words embrace your magic views; Egyptian cats & flowered children floating on depths of cultured rivers, on godlike currents…….I drifted with you;“Lee Thomson”

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