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Oct 2015
I was a waving flower
Graced by the liquid warmth of a new sun

I had roots clinging with such power
That I believed I would never waver

Until the shade of my naivete fell

I am a dried ounce of potpourri
Rotting in a picture frame

Waning in the moment
Of how delicately

My exultancy carries into
Cipher
Allete Ives
Written by
Allete Ives
345
   Carrie Crusoe
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