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"Was it all really me?"

Was it the stone I turned

The house I built

The fire I lit

Was it the smile I drew

The hand I hold

The tear I hid

Not a fraction of day stays still

Not a voice, a treat, a threat

Rubbles and motions

Winters

Trees

Love

Was it all really me?


poem & photography by Marco Pignataro




 
 
 

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©2021 by Marco Pignataro

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