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If he could run, and leap away from the earth...

He doesn't spill psalms
about her from the cavity much
nowadays

All the flutterings of butterflies
fell, sans gravity...in silent dismay

There's no more magic, dancing
amongst the cotton candied clouds
yet, the aches for her comfort plays...

Like an old, sad,  love song
on the turntables of yesterday

he still frequents microcosms
of what joy appeared to be
when she warmed him with
her all consuming ray...
Written by Poetikmind
Published
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