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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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