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Orchard

de Indian Summer

Slow trundle
Eyes bound to forever
Sunrise collected taken
Under sown collection
Of mirrors past
Seeing from sleeping
The joys
Of the newfound wing
Pulling heart and soiled
Wormlike drudging
In movements pictures
Heavy tenfold
Of an iron brigde
That will not burn
9 ft of solid mud
Holding and stealing
The movement of beams
Yearnings of swaying
Forgotten as once more
I crawl your surface
For loss I am guilty
For this I am sorry

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