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Ann Beaver
Poems
Aug 2015
15
Life a shell
Of what it wants to be
It's too late now
It's gone, I can't see.
Sand is slippery like that
Through a tremor
Of an hourglass
Through a trigger
Of a memory, passed
Repeat on cue:
One more day
Then after two
I can't stay
Written by
Ann Beaver
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