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Mar 2018
The surface tenses, trembles,
A crystal mirror gazing skyward
As if waiting on the edges
Of a revelation

And when the sun's first gleaming
Carves down past the horizon
To shatter that tranquil blue

I glance at the fistful of pebbles
Clutched tight in my tender palm
And wonder if I could do it, too.
Largely drafted on the way to work. Seems like more and more gets written that way, these days.
Breon
Written by
Breon  28/M
(28/M)   
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