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...and I saw life like dried leaves
Detached from the branch
Rustling away in the wind
It floated for a while then
Settled on the water surface
The gentle wind carried it to the edge
There it lay
Brown and moistened
Waiting to decay

not every poem makes sense, some are just but glimpses into an uncharted worlds. written during hazy thinking experiment time

#100days of blogging #day4

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