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Sep 2012
the wind slips her under the awnings
and she yawns; shudder, and the doors shut.

she slept through the downy mornings of spring; her resting
in summer's thorny evenings
leaves her with a bed of brittle buddleias
and moonglades in the puddles.
Rhian Jona
Written by
Rhian Jona
  963
   tyler turner, Maegan and Meagan Marie
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