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Grace
Poems
Aug 2015
Afternoon
A blue tourmaline sky hung above,
Wispy grass stood steady,
Only swaying, occasionally,
To the song of the bush cricket.
He lay down in the open air,
And traced unseen words across the sky,
Ink forever wet, forever dry,
Unwritten poems, lost to the afternoon.
I may add more to this
#poetry
#summer
#writing
Written by
Grace
24/F/England
(24/F/England)
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