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Written on the wind

  • AL
  • Nov 9, 2017
  • 1 min read

Updated: Feb 23, 2021

Tracked through my heart, like a path; or seam of ore. A cloak of purple clover was woven on a loom. The mountain covered over. Before the hour of noon. The garment is laid out, and a blessing is bestowed. The margin is blurred; once more.


 
 
 

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