Freeverse 735

3/23/23

little lakes are portals also
society a wool
fall with your faint
the shape of years between 
I want to sample it all
delicious ninth-month midnight edges
interceding for you fling out in our eyes bleeding
lost but not really lost in the earth 
he thinks he's the wind
but he's just the top of the sail
and I am speeding
through many winters

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