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shutter

as verses
I’m no different
from one hundred more
you loved –
poem unintended
for your soul

color me
into your lines
let my spirit fly
forgotten now the taste
of april snow

torn along
these very scars
weathered boards and all
pushed into the places
 met with rhyme

tell the others
what you can
and save the rest
for fall
when dreams are blowing
color off the trees

spread your fingers
o’er the map
roads to take you home
curs’ed now
the poet
to believe

. . .