And tonight
I followed a path
trodden thought the grass
and as it reflects
yesterday's Rain
and Spring
about to do the Same
I picked up the leafs
only the poet can see
and write of its blades
and it's skeleton ways
formed in summer days
and how life's just the same
It's then I make my way
to the words that hurt
but must be heard
before that fall
they call, sleep
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