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Charleston Gardens, Beyond the Battles

June 27, 2012 ·

Narrow passages ribbon their way
Around backyards and back lives.

A city layered in mounds of green ivy
There is a noise in the silence, a humming blending into nothing.

This bridge to history tells stories,
but more joy comes in peeking around bushes and vines.

What peace comes from sheltered havens of green?
A path to solitude, a place to hide
The spaces speak their own language

Filed Under: Poetry

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I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end.
–Gilda Radner

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