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Aug 2016
Broken and broken
again on the sea, the moon
       so easily mends.

       Over the winter forest,
        winds howl in a rage
      with no leaves to blow.

Ere yet the sun is high
All blue the iris blossoms wave,
The color of the sky.
At dawn
The pink clouds,
Like hundreds of *****
Creep from the hollows of heaven
Anne Kho
Written by
Anne Kho  21/F/Bacolod City,Philippines
(21/F/Bacolod City,Philippines)   
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