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shiloh
Poems
Sep 2014
Storm
Midway into summer and the night is coming on
A windy, wet non seuqitur I meet a moment long
Trees bow low, the pious souls, their anxious branches beckoning
The desperate would sell me for a covenant with lightning
The night awakes in light the day can only dream about
No worlds have ever heard the roars of such a broken drought
Written by
shiloh
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