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Mike Essig Apr 2015
In the alleys
of my hometown,
ghosts jostle metaphors,
but today
I am not seeking
memories or poetry,
crocuses and snowbells
suffice.
   - mce
Skye Mar 2018
How softly the leaves fall from on high
Only to slump woefully on the frozen dirt
How gracefully the sun sets
To cruelly envelop the world in ruthless gloom
How happily snowbells bloom
To selfishly die on the loving eve of spring.
WE WILL NOT FORGET YOU

— The End —