the clearing

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dewy creases of sunlight
shine the bottomest well
that harbors the green water
from the muddy ground

orange leaves of fall
surround the stones
like a pool of fire
that burns my veins

his calloused palms
grab the wooden handles
of a bucket filled
with the depths
of my languid heart

let it sway
as the water spills
on the ginger floor

let it dry
when the sun
showers it
with its warm embrace

be it gone
like the days
of pretend

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