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Aug 27
Still loose, my mind drifts
over coppice, brook,
past fields left fallow
to heal
ragged with sedge, ragwort,
while crickets twitch defiance

Here is where I send myself
as the keyboard walls clatter in
and time returns to rigid
and gravity remembers to hold
Dave Robertson
Written by
Dave Robertson  46/M/UK
(46/M/UK)   
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