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Oct 2019
Cold trails
Dark sparks
Wood chips drowning beneath waving path
No time
No chance
No opportunity left to embark

I've missed the stars
The skyward boat
It's filling mast has sailed away
And I am left standing
Beneath the reality
Of day

My reality
This day
As you sail away...

This one's about some kind words I once received. A mere word of thanks for me quietly giving up my seat. It was nothing special. But the memory of which has become quite precious to me. Very pretty.
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