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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Snows at Easter

breath is warm in december
we first stand still and do nothing
for that warble of complaints
i was told this would be music
of untender deeds of adolescence
silent as braves in their scouting
that color outside the lines
until we are perfect storms
together overpainted lessons
of boots at fire season home life
buried in unanswered voice mails
that crack thunder in limitless sky
ten year old argument fades speechless
when the sun our help again

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