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Jan 2018
Glass, shattered, scattered,
blasted over the concrete.
A forgotten ketchup packet,
never knowing the sweet release
of being squeezed over fresh fries.
Bricks printed with names, donors,
good deeds in memory.
A bustling street, not crowded,
but busy, whirling and rushing.
The occasional feet, sport-shoed
or slippered, or booted,
crunching past the shattered glass.
Daniel Magner 2018
Daniel Magner
Written by
Daniel Magner
437
 
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