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Aug 2012
A feather
Of a feather
Aloft by chance;
Falling from Father Time's favor
As his footsteps
Leave history behind.

The ages of empires,
The scintilla of genius,
Are breaths of wind,
Flickering stars,
Far in the distance.

Alas,
Poor Yorick -
He never had a chance.
Sarah Margaret
Written by
Sarah Margaret
754
 
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