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The Fire Burns
Poems
Aug 2017
As I Fill It
The clink of ice falling in,
condensation gathers,
beading and running,
like sweat on a summer day.
From the bottle, I pour,
a steady stream of
12-year-old amber liquid,
made on an island in Scotland.
Written by
The Fire Burns
M/Artesia, NM
(M/Artesia, NM)
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