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Sep 2020
Found myself swaying to your tune,
   smiling at me, under the 6 a.m. ardent light. . .

Tell me I am crazy,
    & I'll say its for you. . .

The smell of coffee in the air,
   fresh paint, picket fences and hardly mowed lawn.

Drift, my head gently into you,
  I just want to keep swaying to this tune. . .

Glass break,
   a photo of me and you. . .
         an altar a cruel reminder.
             I found myself swaying . . . alone. . .

- Life's cruel lies
A Poet
Written by
A Poet  The Moon
(The Moon)   
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