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Click hereclouds scudding
clouds lowering
clouds hovering
I look at them and laugh
so happy so carefree
My love is a cloud,
a will-o'wisp
a tendril
a thought
gossamer and ephemeral
vanishing as the ripples across a quiet pond
what is beneath the surface
what is roiling under
turbulence
and terminal decay
the sludge carries His mind away,
that dreg
and oft the dreck
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,000 poems.
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