LANDAY FOR AUGUST
In penumbra deep, I count the stars,
Each wish a whimper, drinking in bars.
Waiting to soar on wings of words,
Paper untouched, my pen cuts the cord.

A Realm of Sacred Joy
LANDAY FOR AUGUST
In penumbra deep, I count the stars,
Each wish a whimper, drinking in bars.
Waiting to soar on wings of words,
Paper untouched, my pen cuts the cord.
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