patrick wakefield · Jun 1, 2010
mark the crisp mirth

mark the crisp mirth with wrinkled cheeks;

a day comes sun gilded

                                                              glowing golden,

a stroke of brilliant star tears
               playing lancing

d                                             a
                      ppl                           e                            



                               s


on the neatly

organized floor of a forest reposed

green


                               languor

 
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