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Evan Stephens
Poems
Oct 2020
A Low
Things between us
have reached such a low
that I'm drunk at noon
on a Wednesday in October.
But what if I grabbed the sun
for you, shaking it free
from lacy palms of cloud,
and gave it to your greennesss?
Would it be enough to fix it?
Or are all these drams
of Scotch just turning out
dreams in the early afternoon?
Written by
Evan Stephens
44/M/DC
(44/M/DC)
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