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May 2014
The purple haze
of heather had
dwindled in the sunshine.
Bluebells were breaking too,
their florets a flutter.
Smoggy incense rolls in
off the horizon smoking
over the crumbled mountaintops,
their peaks unable to break the surf.
Liz
Written by
Liz  London
(London)   
4.6k
 
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