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Broad sun-stoned beaches.

White heat.
A green river.

A bridge,
scorched yellow palms

from the summer-sleeping house
drowsing through August.

Days I have held,
days I have lost,

days that outgrow, like daughters,
my harbouring arms.


Anonymous submission.

Added: 14 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 30 Aug 2008 5:22 AM | Viewed: 4957 times

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