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Sep 2016
A child of November
that was born into the night
carried by a sadness
on a bed of hidden light

Behind his frosted eyes
is a forest of emerald green
the autumn leaves are magic
from the day of eighteen

Beneath his skin a hint
of olive yellow tone
from a pouring heart of love
never truly sewn
Thomas Alan
Written by
Thomas Alan  M/Newcastle, UK
(M/Newcastle, UK)   
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