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Only black leaves like feathers,
Like leaves without limbs only,
Are hidden under dead sobs,
Buried in the distance,
Of an unremembered past,
A trembling laugh remains,
In the present progressive,
As dry, bony fingers reach further,
In vain, To attempt,
A catch of blossoming youth,
Among the wild flowers of truth,
Lost within feelings of ruth.
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Best wishes,
Leland
Trixie :)