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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Arts >> ID #754944 |
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Kilts of confetti
swish shimmering in brisk winds: rust-golden gingers baked by day, chilled under moon; leaves take liberties twirling, turning in glory, bright as ripe pumpkins against slate-blue sundown skies. Beside the autumn, death whispers her lullaby, breathing frosted words over burgundy and pear… silencing all into sleep.
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