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tidy beach
soft sand and honest stones
to be fortunate here
so the falling days,
end today, winter waits,
and the songs, and words,
tunes are all to warm us,
and hold us safe
let us look at things, differently.

often, we do things, no one ever sees.
that is you and me. two of us
dancing on the sand.

it came
and went,
quickly.
the anxiety failed later in the day
a more comfortable place as i
watched other peoples ways and
opinions

we saw the lights in the village
the power house rears its head again,
pouring images down
like rain.
shall we discuss world news

or show concern over the local road being closed.

subsidence
adrift, will the sky at last explode, or will this hate
continue pointlessly, for  thousand thousands years.
numbers that cannot describe each particle of pain.
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