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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Nature >> ID #1182490 |   |
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Wanderings The humble arid soil Awakes to a newborn dawn, Sprouting its hues of buff As night is softly withdrawn. From the horizon mounts A glorious ball of fire, Ousting the cold and moist That fiercely prevailed prior. I leave my current camp – A voice orders to head west Towards the Promised Land In my never-ending quest.
© Copyright 2006 ystab (UN: kulystab at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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