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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2235673
Sitting in the warm sun
Sometimes when my soul
is over-chilled and brittle,

I sit in sun to soak up warmth
and light through closed lids,
reaching forward to link minds
with future me, to reassure

that we exist and endure
as far as memory can cast
both before and after
in one eternal, glowing round

of sunny moments strung
on threads of time.
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