by Rachealgrace Adams
It’s in the swirl Cora. The warmth on your face
is my soul in the glow of all the afternoon suns.
Remember sunrise sunsets; half above half below
plain leaves. It was there clouds noticed I fell in
before the haze. Life is perfectly timed. It was not
over wound. Turn it Clara; the key in your walk is
in the dust of my ashes. Let go; you are free above
the haze where I fell.
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