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reading poetry

i was here
sharing how i feel
with a glass of whiskey
talking back
 
revealing the sky
by closing books
that read better
at bed time
 
counting money
like a perfect lady with
the right hair
showing off her mind
 
cradling light
filled with priceless
works, crafted by hands
 
floating like a petal
removed by a storm
chasing the warm
hovering earth

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