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Jul 2015
As the clouds rolled in
On my sunny day walk,
The cool wind
Nipped at my skin,
And the beautiful, fire-orange trees
Were rocking like
My grandmothers old chair.
The sky grew gray,
As if it too was getting old,
And the rain
Became tiny pebbles
Pulsing against my skin.
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Written by
User Not Found  Narnia
(Narnia)   
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