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Jan 1

An unintentional poem,
An unabashed jumble of sighs and cries.
Of hopes and dreams,
Of days spent by willows and streams.

But portraits beg bigger, better.
An advertisement of broken promises to come.
Made by whispers under sparks
Of gold, and green, and blue and black.

Simple days long forgotten.

Poetry For The Lost PeopleWhere stories live. Discover now