Across the street, voices
With a beer tinged lilt talk of mysteries Immature and dreams deeply felt, vaguely Seen. They drift into the hum of silence, reminiscing youth of a future not yet lived. The birds skitter with the stars, twinkling tunes in echo light - a tweaking of the dawn that’s yet to come in the hours I hope to sleep - the mind needs calm exhaustion, but mine has thoughts of a thousand ifs aswirl in the multiverse of night.
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October 2016
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