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Sep 2018
The buses riding
with open doors,
and the days long for
no discernible reason
other
than the tilting
of the axis,

and the leaves stay
and are
green,
temporarily,
and the birds sing
because
they sang before:
not for any love
of the music.
Written by
Celso Moskowitz  29/M/Portugal
(29/M/Portugal)   
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