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In Itself

Pouncing through peacock
puddles reflecting
broken skies;

living only
in the absence
of witnesses.

A contest entry

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Comments


  • aeolia
    November 24, 2007

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    I love that last stanza, and the alliteration in the first is quite calming. Oh, and your username is beautiful; you know what they say about the words "cellar door."

    --Cristina