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Eliana
Poems
Mar 2014
Yours
There's a green sort of light
falling through the treetops
alighting gently in your hair.
There's a green sort of light
shining from your fingertips
into my skin. I can't see it
but I know it's there.
And you say
there's a green sort of light
my eyes catch from the sun
spin it out in a web to ensnare
yours.
Written by
Eliana
Israel
(Israel)
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