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Updated: May 6, 2021

FIVE FIFTY-FIVE Moon hangs like a wire in the sky above tree touched roofs of semi-detached houses while clouds become waves marking the passage

of afternoon into evening. Looking down upon

pale yellowish leaves

scattered on the moist green

not daring to dance against

the moods of a capricious wind

which casts away scraps of

discarded memories

Meanwhile, from an upstairs window,

a small red-haired figure

imagines these scenes in his mind

before writing them down on paper

hoping to make some poetry

out of all pictures he sees

on this bleak autumnal weekday. © Julius Howard

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