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Oct 2022
When the sun shines through my hand,
red and pink through my fingers,
the inside out.

When the sun makes shadows of my hand,
shade to my fingers,
darkness across my page.

When the sun shines, I climb line after line
from one rhyme to the next
unchecked from the deep,
to new depths, from newer heights!
To greater red and dark lights!
Writing on a bench in Kew in the sun.
Steve Page
Written by
Steve Page  62/M/London, U.K.
(62/M/London, U.K.)   
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