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Stain

Today the clouds thicken like gravy- ink blots stain the sky. Silence after silence unloads its ill will at my feet. I am accustom to it and it has settled. The sky continues to ashen as it swallows the pine trees like a relentless Sandpoint, Idaho snowstorm consuming all in its way. The day spills its impressions like a half-full glass which leaves me as empty as an astounding wail from a 90-year-old woman's crippled up body.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 2/16/2019 8:17:00 PM
Your metaphoric take on life is succinctly telling, Dawnell.
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