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The Fall

The Fall Barren trees , left to rust The wind blows Here comes the dust The wandering eye , knows For crooked teeth and sharp tongues don’t mind their own Bouquet dissolve and decay Yet, the full moon sits , crowned on it’s thrown For the night is plentiful Despite dismay Marckincia Jean Rhyme 08/05/2024

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things