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Nov 2019
Quick, come to my corner,
I’ll hold you there till the morning sighs it’s un-beguiling chime.

My old mans a dustpan, deadpan, delivered in your sweet shell as an abstract lullaby,
Then we will sleep, tucked to each other like a light and it’s shadow.

In my corner there’s this strange girl, with hair tangled over my shoulder,
Counting sheep, as she and I slide into night.
Written by
Stephen Moore  M
(M)   
111
 
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