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Fey
Poems
Jul 2022
Home
The skies gleam soft, spun by cloudy filaments;
Seven vertical contrails, pearlwhite, pale;
Our time together; liquid, trickling away,
the color of alabaster, corundum, topaz -
and you have gone lost, in our broken hourglass.
© fey (25/07/22)
Written by
Fey
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Rob Rutledge
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Autumn
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