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Oct 2019
It is the time of year
Upon which the air rests, sick
With a moderate fever
And the wind speaks more robustly,
Through thin skin

It is when the great keeper of time hastens
As if preparing to leave his hearth
And venture into the great white strokes

To hear robins
Treading lightly
Upon half frozen dew
Written by
Dan  23/M/London
(23/M/London)   
  258
   ---, Vicki Ann, L B and ---
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