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Author: saartha
ASL Info:    27/F/US
Elite Ratio:    4.01 - 230 /393 /145
Words: 73
Class/Type: Poetry /Misc
Total Views: 1997
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 517



The sound of light
hitting rough against the hillside.

I am fond of this town,
spinning out
in a loom of rain and sun,
all its shining green threads

the way one is fond
of a mountain
on Mars.

That strange, sideways love,
found in the word ‘someday’
and in ‘used to.’

The red dust and the trumpet of light, and there,
there, suddenly there
the motes of humanity.

Submitted on 2016-11-11 11:45:26     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  the crackle of rays
as they stroke the treetops
and shatter the stars
that melt like rain

slithering down
like a mirrored reflection
of a glacial collapse
before a brilliant day

Just my thoughts on yours.
| Posted on 2016-11-11 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]

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