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BR Grayson Sep 2019
Marbles made of sweet canes with a dash of cinnamon.
Varnished tresses of lyptus that bathed in the glow.
Petals that once knew the shade of heat.
Now sour, fade and bleak
in the face
of nature’s decree.
Midori J Jun 2014
there might be a voice that
nobody
wants
to listen

and maybe someday i will find
there might be a voice
that i am tired
to hear
it's my whispers become
echoes

still nowhere to land
birds lost all gone.

iJT

— The End —