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My Breeze

Waiting for light to emerge from dark,
I sit alone in the standstill park.
A breeze rolls in and he tickles my cheek,
Never have I ever felt so weak.
He then moves on to whisper in my ears,
“I must go when the darkness clears.”
I let him begin to swirl through my hair,
Then I suddenly feel warmth and realize he’s no longer there.

Do you pick up the personification of the breeze? Or is it too strong?

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