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Under summer sun, Closed eyes, Visualize. A soft hue of Crimson. Where pictures blurred, Images, obscure, Drift unordered, Through a uncluttered mind. Thoughts of a serene nature, Content just to be. While the nostalgic sound, Of an aeroplane's engine, Echo in a cloudless sky. Time idly slips on by. And the call of one’s youth, chime the ages. Each season, That falls under the sun. Like old memories, That hang on the breeze. Amid the beauty, Of nature's sweet rhyme. caught up in a few precious moments, Slowly fading, falling backwards, Through time.
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Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 2:14 AM UTC
Falling Backwards Through Time.
Under summer sun, Closed eyes, Visualize. A soft hue of Crimson. Where pictures blurred, Images, obscure, Drift unordered, Through a uncluttered mind. Thoughts of a serene nature, Content just to be. While the nostalgic sound, Of an aeroplane's engine, Echo in a cloudless sky. Time idly slips on by. And the call of one’s youth, chime the ages. Each season, That falls under the sun. Like old memories, That hang on the breeze. Amid the beauty, Of nature's sweet rhyme. caught up in a few precious moments, Slowly fading, falling backwards, Through time.
philip-warwick
Written by
70/M/Berkshire
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 2:14 AM UTC
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