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Oct 2013
Sunlight leaks low in the West.
A line of brilliant gold clings to the horizon
And crowns the ancient peaks in forgotten glory.

Day is defeated.  Lethargically,
It slips from the sky like melting butter,
Like a bell-bottomed tear.

Declaring dusk, Indigo fills the air.  
Each sense becomes wrapped in a blue hush,
Broken only by the winds soulful cries.  

Colours deepen.  Infinity
Is exposed as night sprinkles her constellations
Like celestial dust.

The touch of cold stone pulls me home.  
Somewhere, a wild cat calls to the moon
And the chimney offers smoke to the sky.
Claude Mills
Written by
Claude Mills
602
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