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Mar 2016
-47
from the windows, a mottled sky,
pink & blue, wraps across the western
hills of the valley. tararuas draped in
clustering dark white fogthrow, and
my heart ticks down hours, a handful
of round dozens, not even that.

the streetlamps flicker up,
a little glistening roll of sparks,
sweet, all at once, and
coat riverstone and the valley
floor and, of course,
tugs at strings. but i haven't
said anythin', just yet.

as typical,
will just disappear; as a
daydream evaporates,
come autumn.
sad style
Tom McCone
Written by
Tom McCone  Wellington
(Wellington)   
827
   ---, Bethany Widdicombe, r and katie
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