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Sep 2018
Do you remember the dusk of our town?
The summer birds nesting above as we rode our bikes.
The trail between our houses, all the distance we’d hike.
Hiding from the heat beneath a canopy of branches.
In our backyards the fireflies with their luminescent dances.
Sneaking out into humid nights.
Along the lake we watch the bridges small moving lights.

It’ll be warm spring soon.
The pink azaleas will be in bloom.
All of our jokes and our laughs, the taste of every blue snowball jumping into leaves when trees faced the fall.
This town is ones home.
The other wished it his own.
All our wasted hours didn’t matter then.
If I could have it back I’d only waste them       Again.
Written by
Jean-Paul Blancq  18
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