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August 5, 2014
And in the heat of
such a storm,
words spat out
in bitter form.
Not meant, nor true
and just like speed,
gather momentum
as hot air free’d.
And then the calm
that surely follows,
when swifts arrive
and dance with swallows,
to lighten the moment
and distract the mind,
making nonsense of the past
now left well behind.
And as the streets
dry out from the rain,
gone is the anguish
one can’t explain,
that in the heat,
of such a storm,
built up and bubbled
in grotesque form.
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