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The cool wind on our faces The happy smiles all around As children, our favorite places Included being on the playground
A tree, dry and maze-like, With its nooks and crannies Housing dormant figures of spiders, insects and whatnot . . . As its gentle aging is noted by those in passing,
I can feel my own mortality It seeps through my body Sending chills to my spine Filling in the empty spaces A winter inversion settling in Blanketing everything in a dull grey I feel it in my soul
The cadence beat sounds The floor stands still He takes rounds The sun comes up The sun goes down He moves without a frown The moon says hello The moon says goodbye
Transitions are never easy. I know. I have not mastered moving on. You were an awkward sentence leaving me open-ended. I knew we weren’t over, but to be continued… There wasn’t an introduction.