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Mrs Flowers Apr 5
I tore down the Sky Scrapers with just a feather
Made the dry cement wet again
I Heated the brass of an Adonis with a giggle
And drew the sunshine in with the crescent moon

I fed the hummingbirds with the faces of dead presidents
And wrapped myself in their jackets
All of the cold towers in this world
are suddenly crumbling sand in my bare hands

— The End —