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Alex
Poems
May 2018
Bright Day's Sky
Where lies a field of unblossomed flowers and unplanted trees in what man stands alone?…
Where lies the final season, where the unblossomed flowers grow? In what field do these trees stand?
Where a wind is the hand of God…gentle will it let us fly like pollen gold in the bright day's sky.
Written by
Alex
40/M/Los Angeles
(40/M/Los Angeles)
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