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Joel M Frye
Poems
Dec 2020
pointless
A line begins,
is drawn,
ends.
An endless,
infinite number
of waypoints
between.
Lines leave no legacy;
a small black streak
to be erased.
The last of my line,
I leave no legacy;
my poems are my children
Up waaaaay too late this morning.
Written by
Joel M Frye
Jurassic Park, FL
(Jurassic Park, FL)
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