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Antony Glaser
Poems
Jan 2022
Greens contours
Green is the hollow wind calling
whose myriad leaves have rotted down
It's the tiptoe through the woods
that persists the foraging trail
Green is the high hills
that concedes the end of the journey
Written by
Antony Glaser
60/M/croydon
(60/M/croydon)
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