Spinel
By RogerKHope
Fri, 23 Mar 2018
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1 comments
With each inhale of hollowed summer night.
Mirrors fogged by careless whispers,
of faint promises for tomorrow.
Still a string of pearls will gather dust.
And is softly kissed by the morning sun.
A feeling all but lost.
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Comments
There’s a lovely tone here.
Permalink Submitted by Philip Sidney on
There’s a lovely tone here.
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