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Apr 2022
With hues of rose and soft scented haze
A pale dusk light recoils under my door
Her welcome shimmer I will see no more
As her piercing absence distains my gaze.

Where now will my light live long and old,
Leaving haunted corners so drafty and cold?
Will my dark desires be free to soar?
As light retreats from under my door?
Written by
Ron
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