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Apr 2019
Index finger laying across tightly pressed lips as I drive down the Boulevard.

I watch the fluffy cotton fall down to the earth.

Snow globe picturesque we are shaken once more.

No complaints from me I mumble to myself.

Once again my eyes, my heart and my soul are afforded life's beauty.
Written by
The Concrete Poet  M
(M)   
  141
   Donovan
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