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Mar 2019
the cool, mid-afternoon breeze
flowing through my bedroom window
turns my heart to honey and
my feet into flowers,
rooted where I stand, though
I'm still not sure if I'm grounded
with the revitalization of defrost
or buried in unforeseen melancholy.
III
Written by
III  Chicago
(Chicago)   
193
     Fawn, George Anthony and ---
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