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Sep 2017
The colors of umbrella's sphere,
can awaken what we need to hear;
With bright array they spin and toss,
regaining springtime that was lost.

With water falling from the sky,
our visions cloudy from eye to eye;
Yet stripes above protect our heads,
with carousels swinging clearest red.

The boundaries are now set in place,
like the moon and stars from outer space;
We can't move on beyond the rain,
despite the need to ease our pain.

Outside each moment seems to last,
while sands shift in the hourglass;
Contented now to remain unseen;
we stand in sight of luscious green.
Written by
Frances E McClelland  Hamilton, NJ
(Hamilton, NJ)   
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