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guy scutellaro
Poems
11h
the sun brushed warm
across my face.
I saw spring coming
in the meadow
where the wildflowers
whisper to the wind.
found freedom on a snowcapped mountain top,
smiled to the child offering violets
cradled in her tiny hands
and when she smiles to me
her joy ripples like sunlight
across the sea of love.
the curtain is lifted.
the soul becomes visible
(always in the wild places
in my heart.)
Written by
guy scutellaro
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