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sun’s edge carefully dulled
as if it had lost its twang;
and though she refuses politely,
she gets tangled, caught
in autumn’s dark gray cotton candy,
shooting strings of wetness
upon trees and heads alike.

we all can only hope
that these rich drops
are our dear old friend’s parting tears
as she packs her bags for the season –
and not
incontinence issues.

… a somewhat quirky poem written for dVerse’s Open Link Night – let’s go grab a drink at the bar!

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photo credits: fineartamerica.com

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