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Ann Beaver
Poems
Nov 2016
Drift
Drifting in and out
Flailing looks like flying
In your eyes
Try on different selves
Meet them one-by-one
Say goodbye
The only constant
Winter stalks the sunset
As night preys upon the light
Hunched and cold
Watching you sail from the shore.
And I grow old
Waiting for your return
Written by
Ann Beaver
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