tingle

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  • As fingers of cold air touch the skin which tingles

    fingers running over the goosebumps that rise unbidden

    silhouetted by the moon which shines from behind

    shimmering light translucent with blue veins

    wrinkled, gnarled old face, soft as velvet to touch

    that sings of age and wisdom shared through a millennium

    telling of ancient secrets and stories long forgotten

    whispering

    whispering

    speaking

    speaking

    louder

    louder

    until it soars to a crescendo of impossible knowledge

    That we fail to hear

    To listen

    To listen

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