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Sep 2012
Dull grey light
of night time
rolling under clouds.
A mist or cling-film over eyes,
the sky still blue overhead.  

Wind blows itself out
takes the flame of the sun.
Cold and damp under foot,
wetness in the air.

A steady snail sweeps his silent path
as birds go to sleep.
The not-quite-darkness creeps
through the slats in the blind.
Jessica Fowler
Written by
Jessica Fowler
795
   Chuck
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