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Jan 2020
Peeking through the blackness,
the ghosts of yesterday stir.
Reaching for help that comes too late,
creatures cry as they melt into the ground

Orange tongues lick the dry tinder,
as firenadoes twist in their death-rolls.
The heroes of the day wipe their brow
while the world looks on in horror and mourns.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Vicki Kralapp
Written by
Vicki Kralapp  Oshkosh
(Oshkosh)   
60
   Juneau
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