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For Later

On the threshold of August
Doors wide open
Our faces are drowned
In the shroud of clouds
Put them away I’m begging
But hardly you hear me
Sounds of cars, all muted 
Brought your street to my door.
In addition to what has been said
One can stay silent 
Moreover, what has been said
Doesn't have to be read 
Roadside stones 
Overgrown with moss 
Someone's life is put on hold
For later.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things