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Presumptuous Of My Pen's Epitome

The keeper of my shadow in escrow,  
presumptuous of my pen's epitome.    
No more bees, wildflowers, or words,  
now footprints of places forgotten.  
In the sand, washed away by the tides,  
between the metaphors and the shoals.  
   
In my solitude with a broken silk fan,  
of nature's Hope Chest, dreaming.    
Twilight's memorabilia, whispering    
beneath the glass of fading neon light.  
When we were discreetly ghosts,    
and felt the pulse of the living.
Written by PaleSkies
Published
Author's Note
Have you ever wondered where your shadow went?
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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