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Come the dawn.


When the night is gone let us paint it back up with its hanging moon and stars drawing glances toward the darkened sky behind, near to empty ‘til filled up, brimming with brushed on clouds, in grey light dimming, fading not into tomorrow, lingering on. Speechless, thoughtless, moving, they fall down into twin glasses of wine, and shimmer on velvet waves, a dim reflection of yesterday.
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