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Aug 2015
The moon casts a luminous light
over my skin.

The smoke dissipates from my cigarette
into the darkened sky.

My palms feel moist
from the grass below.

The sound of creatures surrounding me,
dances between my ears.

But all I can think about,
is the silhouette of the trees

against the cold sky.
Madison Burnham
Written by
Madison Burnham
374
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