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Nov 2012
One light
engulfing a doorstep,
reaching out dim tendrils
that barely caress the grass.
All night.

Is it superstition,
keeping that light bulb burning?
Are you calling?
                             Wind scrapes bare branches together in the shadows
Are you searching?
                             Pale pink sky behind drizzling mist
Do you beckon a lost heart home?
rachel g
Written by
rachel g  portland, maine
(portland, maine)   
891
   ---, Thomas McEnaney and ---
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