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Tuesday, 23 August 2016

Candelabra

And as the natural light fades
The artificial illuminations
Strike a chord of their own
Blues, and greens, and sharpened

Reds, from the box of decorations
Ghostly whites, and blossoms of
Blues, from the heavenly gates
Of unconditional love

In this prepared environment
The table is laid for dinner
Yesterday's presents are set aside
To create space for cold turkey


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