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Dec 2013
The trees
are like heaven nowadays
surrounding us with cloudy cloves and
flipping spirals.
A tarnished orange filter is how I see
the dead grass.
Yesterday
I was alive and breathing
sweet, cold and crisp;
tomorrow, crepuscular, we will dance in rings
of smoke and imagination.
Noah Roberts
Written by
Noah Roberts  New York
(New York)   
657
 
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