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Dec 2014
felt it leave that day
no craft binds it here

in tickling grass of copper fields
a kiss and disappear

a slight caress of shadows
seductive draining touch

a wind of colored madness
no breath that matters much

it left the screaming whispers
to roam the time that lasts

it fell into the empty
and left this world of glass
Porter
Written by
Porter  Tennessee
(Tennessee)   
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