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Apr 2020
A day passes like a soft lullaby
as water flows through the harbor
Quietly within a stoking murmur
that isn't anywhere near a skirmish
Leaves waft to the floor
and rest til the next breeze
Sunlight ripples across a scenic postcard
And the time passes
until it's time to drink
Written by
Tim Curran
61
   lX0st
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