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Dark Scrawling

Dark Scrawling

 

Each day, earlier and earlier,

the dark of night sets in

 

The air moves,

pushed by the sun, they say,

but this breeze comes from a

much darker place

 

As I wander down this road

that’s leading to somewhere

The world has no warmth for me

 

The wind whips and flips

and drills down to the bone

 

And there, where the roads crossed,

I saw you standing, spinning

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Taken on January 30, 2008