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Words
cypress
cyrus
cysgod
da
dab
Iwan Lloyd Pitts
Feb 2011
Cysgod
Lights, warm glow.
Sun, burns hole
in the floor.
Only temporary,
a moment and
the hole moves on.
Now it's on the wall.
Inquisitive eyes,
on divine face
talking to me,
"Why are you
staring
at my shadow?"
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— The End —