WILD ORCHID


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There is a house made of glass on the banks of the sound.
Where purple Alyssum cover the ground.

Blades of grass caressing the warm summer breeze.
On a path carved in dirt and covered with leaves.

I walk down this trail every night in my dreams.
To a place in the meadows by the indolent stream.

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.
All by itself, it sits in the mist.
It possesses a magic I cannot resist.

Charmed by a spell, possession of me.
A deep seeded need which I’ll never be free.

Walls made of glass.
No windows or doors.
No way inside to the cobble stone floor.

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Rays of the dawn rise up from the shore.
They whisper in song of a wistful lore .

Desire smolders the embers that burn.
Fed by the hunger of an endless yearn.

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Inside the house is a single lindenii
It is the true definition of untouchable beauty.

Elegant simplicity, varied colors of life
Unison harmony erasing darkness and strife.

Wild Orchid so lonely so frail.
I try and I try, yet none to avail.

A casting of vision upon thee bestow.
Spellbound, enchanted, flies of fire aglow.

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Sobering baffle in a heady embrace.
Translucent Bastille, compelled and encased.

I would offer my soul to break through the glass
To release my heart it holds in its grasp.

I wish it could know what it means to me.
In the hopes that its spirit would finally be free.

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Ghostly orchid, absent of black.
To which every night I find my way back.

The house made of glass that keeps me from you,
Release me by morning and carry me through.

Never have I wanted something as much.
As a breath to inhale, petals velvet to touch.

Wild orchid imprisoned in glass.
I bid you farewell until the last day has past.

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About paulsdahlman

Born in Southern California, raised on the road and now growing roots in New England. I am on the journey of my lifetime. May the footprints I leave behind form the words to my story.
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