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Jan 31
The blue sky is my canvas
Until the canopy of the night
Then my brushstroke
Become comet tails
An astroid field of flight

No language in my dream
No limits of the tongue
My flights of mindfulness
Has only just begun
Traveler 🧳 Tim
Written by
Traveler  58/M/Traverse City Mi.
(58/M/Traverse City Mi.)   
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