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Clouds converge, bow, Weep for the world below. A watercoloured grey, A smeared conglomerate of colour Traced light upon the day. A metaphor, I thought, For where we had lost our way. One once fought with passion But with a penchant for decay. I thawed. I saw my fundamentals melt. Hands dealt I would never draw, A shore so sure it had no law But an ancient hound with a lazy eye, A gammy paw and a mangy hide. Yawned while clouds wept on high, Snored as silence passed him by.
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Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 7:01 PM UTC
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Clouds converge, bow, Weep for the world below. A watercoloured grey, A smeared conglomerate of colour Traced light upon the day. A metaphor, I thought, For where we had lost our way. One once fought with passion But with a penchant for decay. I thawed. I saw my fundamentals melt. Hands dealt I would never draw, A shore so sure it had no law But an ancient hound with a lazy eye, A gammy paw and a mangy hide. Yawned while clouds wept on high, Snored as silence passed him by.
RWRutledge
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37/London
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 7:01 PM UTC
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