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Each freckle is a last kiss to be traced back to you,
how many lifetimes of last kisses could there be,
outlined by tiny tear fractures?
All puddle..
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Poetry is the quiet moments in the day
That collate the confusion and discord,
A symphony amid tree tops, plucking
Plectrum beaks harping cooling..
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Soup
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A focal point makes for seeing
The weave of a chain,
Meditation on a smallness framed,
A sign punched in like a clock card
Structuring vast lon..
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Selfish me. This is really not about me, it the observation and knowing of a long standing friend of 19 years and her late husband.
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A bit of a round robin
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It's old and detached now, told millions of times by millions of people, in millions of words.
Anyone feeling caustic might appreciate it. (No I dont..
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Still a bright beautiful colourful dragonfly.
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How I abhor the treacherous wintry night’s cold moors.
Blanketed moors, stealthy wicked moors, rue unto you!
Through spring we loved, we lai..
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Perhaps something like a final sunset, just a thought.
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