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John Destalo
Poems
May 2020
the river waif
white gold
sun drops
surround
her thoughts
a halo of
hope
for the water
she hears
the whispers
in the trees
and she
dances to
their songs
like a
skipped rock
creating waves
she releases
thin strands
of auburn
from their tail
as
she collapses
in her
flower bed
Written by
John Destalo
55/M/Harrisburg, PA
(55/M/Harrisburg, PA)
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