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Leslie Philibert
Poems
Jan 2019
Old
Late in the afternoon
doors seem to close quickly.
Ways break into ochre,
trees black like hours.
Burnt clocks of memory
strike like lazy foxes.
Lazy as a launching swan
my steps falter,
I am a refugee in my own time.
As the light weakens
and the air cools
the pictures peel off like skin
and fall at my feet.
Written by
Leslie Philibert
63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)
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Fawn
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