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Slate

Early morning
mist
teardrops to tree vine
dabs
dots
to
many
mini
sparkled star-shine
the white
climbs
overhead
with chromatic sky
while birds
cry
songs
of warmth
in
defiance
to grey

spill thy waters
cleansed and pure
as devils beat their wives
between thine pour



  
Written by souladareatease
Published
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