I used to dream of spring
and a lifetime of long June days
I watched you walk away into the warm, whistling wind
Singing with your voice, 'So long'.
...

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Sickle

Sickle of wind,
meeting the wheat.
Coming to cut me down.
Cut me down to size.

A river will run from my eyes.
Swift enough to sweep clean,
not deep enough to drown
the loss I'll come to realize.

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4/26/2024 7:36:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119