<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509860" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Chirping</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have a story to tell. A familiar one of a kind tale.<br>Colored by pigment and biased with a name.<br>Breeding contempt or some other monstrous thing<br>in hearts that pump fear as if it was life itself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's a story that comes in pieces, chunks or ragged whole <br>cloth, though it can seem stitched into a tapestry, or <br>quilted by an Amish maiden fresh as this morning's hay<br>and full of lies. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's a story that cracks my voice.<br>About the cost of freedom.<br>About these wounds in my arms<br>bleeding secrets I once kept, <br>staining my bones like a Maori tattooing ceremony.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is a story about blind alleys.<br>About mountains and trails meant for goats.<br>About walking in light and shade.<br>Learning to live in the light<br>and rest in the shade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is the story of the years and how they burn the skin.<br>The innocent days, and guilty nights <br>when I am no longer young.<br>About the grip of a force I cannot resist.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the night I hear a cricket chirping.<br>It reminds me of music from long ago, <br>a well tempered riot of color and sound; <br>the cricket is chirping, the music is playing, <br>the torch is lit and I have a story to tell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ronald+Shields">Ronald Shields</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509860" data-title="Chirping de Ronald Shields" data-description="I have a story to tell. A familiar one of a kind tale. Colored by pigment and biased with a name. Breeding contempt or some other monstrous thing in hearts that pump fear as if it was life itself. It's a story that comes in pieces, chunks or ragg..."></div> </div> </div>

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