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Too quick to gather
tumbleweed musings
elegiac wanderings
time is late it would seem
perhaps in some other
moment’s clime shall usher
more suited pronouncements
this Muse’s pitch, silent
this yesterday’s tomorrow
bereft of what once was
familiar in the back corner
now bathed in light of want
perhaps new days offer
muted dreams to prosper
cut loose from what encumbers
this day ever remembered
Published inMainOtherSorrow

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