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The Grains Of The Day
Floating away,
the grains of the day.
Into the slow glow.
Leaves in the wind.
A spiralling feather
on the skin of the pond,
singing a moribund song.
Frogs blink with wet eyes
and cast aside glances.
Swifts silhouetted scream,
swirling and diving.
Clouds pass, like children
in warm birthday dances.
Gently they play.
The piano keys only sing single notes.
Blue eyes turn grey
watching the grains of the day.
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