I wake up one morning thinking
of time lost, and dreaming
of different blues
and gold and green and other hues
and all that which is now lost.
And all that, all that, at what cost?
This land, this land once so green,
and all its toils now, as yet unseen.
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a life in words. moments, memories, heartbeats pouring intermittently from my fingers, coalescing on the skies of my pages like so many late autumn murmurations
