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May 2015
the mirror says how old we are
the wrinkles know our times,
our wispy strands of silver hairs,
and worn in laughter lines

the scratches in our stones
much like lovers carved in trees
the sweet sting of peaceful death
like honey from the bees.
cassini
Written by
cassini  Australia
(Australia)   
487
   NV and its gonna make sense
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