them there eyes
The
sound of her voice was like drips of water at Indian caverns during late autumn
in southern
Ohio.
How
he longed for that damp air.
Uncanny
underneath Earth.
One
could sense the presence of ancient ancestors.
Almost
hear the echo of drums, chanting, if silent for periods of time.
He
missed the feeling he received of being surrounded by plentiful geo rocks.
Splitting
one open would just remind him of the color of her eyes.
Kris G W Kasotis
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