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Last night I drove past a fawn she was laying on the road and lifting her head up slowly Stunned  by an oncoming car and unable to carry her self. A day later I drove at dusk the blood red shadows framed the low clouds a large buck with a crown of time on his head bowed beneath a tree, searching for something lost. The days gather like revolving doors till I am exhausted and unable to raise my head Going too quick to comprehend all my packed belongings. I unpack my plants and books and look up the mountain searching for something in the shadows of morning, lost.
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Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 11:31 PM UTC
U. The Shadows of Morning
Last night I drove past a fawn she was laying on the road and lifting her head up slowly Stunned  by an oncoming car and unable to carry her self. A day later I drove at dusk the blood red shadows framed the low clouds a large buck with a crown of time on his head bowed beneath a tree, searching for something lost. The days gather like revolving doors till I am exhausted and unable to raise my head Going too quick to comprehend all my packed belongings. I unpack my plants and books and look up the mountain searching for something in the shadows of morning, lost.
katy-laurel
Written by
American
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 11:31 PM UTC
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