bugs hang in the mist
spider webs heave with the breeze
and the light shines green;
we are in her church
walking down the aisle, crushing
gravel with our feet
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nuances, moments, a celebration of the mundane -- life in brief.
2 comments:
somewhere in this poem, buried, should be a palindrome; i keep trying to create one with the title.
duuuuuude.
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