more often
than not
lie to the storied
fantasy like
hearing an old time
gospel tune
that forgot
that man is a liar.
Like a phantom
in the night
like a thief
that believes
in the way
he sees it,
like unknowing
the knowing
of the flickering
bugs light
floating like
the bumble bees
irregular flight
humming birds
wings blur
passed the eyes
of unbelievable
love stories
lies.
Jim Hime ©2015
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