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Dec 2018
Those floating candles.
Passing by
along those steady streams.

A burning incense.
Dripping wax  
upon those vanilla sticks.

Puddles now at their lids.
Dried to a still,
past burns are seen.
Love poem.
My poetry/short story website: www.gothicsurrealism.com
Daniel Long
Written by
Daniel Long  31/M/Massachusetts
(31/M/Massachusetts)   
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