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Mar 2015 · 890
Two storms
The clouds had made
a crimson crown
Above the mountains high.
The stormy sun was going down
In a stormy sky

Why did you let your storm so
rest on me,
And hold your breath between?
Blue storms peering towards me
A gaze held and so long seen

In all the ages this can never be
As if it had not been

— The End —