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I write these words as
I sit on a granite bench
on a cool night
under a crescent moon
the bench still warm from
the blood red sun
that scorched the pavement
brown
and the town too
but the town
did not burn
only smoldered
in the yellow glare
of afternoon.






Article © Wayne F. Burke. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-09-23
Image(s) are public domain.


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