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May 2020
The stray dog watches me.
Tongue draped sideways.
Under the dancing shadows,
Cast by dusty olive trees.
The wind blows, across my
Lyre strings. Distant memories
stirring, but I cannot dwell.
Once, when I doubted, I looked
behind and deep regret has
plagued me since.
I am a shell.
Written by
Sam Lawrence  51/M/London
(51/M/London)   
69
   Sam Lawrence
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