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September morning and the blush pink of a child's eyelid layers With soft Wedgewood blue And a silvery white. Feathery treetops shiver in the light breeze And there is a delicious chill in the air. Contrails break apart in slow motion Resting on the daybreak's skyline. A blackbird hops across the dewy grass To take his morning slice of stale bread. Rose petals crimped and heavy wait Patiently to be dried in the pastel sun. There is no sadness as the summer slips by; Just memories of freshly mown grass On parish fields, of light, of warmth, Of sea and country walks Sweetening, like apples In a sand box.
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Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC
September ( a Collaboration with David Hewitt)
September morning and the blush pink of a child's eyelid layers With soft Wedgewood blue And a silvery white. Feathery treetops shiver in the light breeze And there is a delicious chill in the air. Contrails break apart in slow motion Resting on the daybreak's skyline. A blackbird hops across the dewy grass To take his morning slice of stale bread. Rose petals crimped and heavy wait Patiently to be dried in the pastel sun. There is no sadness as the summer slips by; Just memories of freshly mown grass On parish fields, of light, of warmth, Of sea and country walks Sweetening, like apples In a sand box.
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Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC
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