Saturday, August 16, 2025

Poetic Lightning Comments

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My muse, a whisp of smoke, hear it then gone, inspiration spoke in a yawn
Glowing ember falls to the ground a spark to remember a dying sound
Echoes ring from the dark, an angel sings, only a smudge left as its mark
Scrapings of soot makes my ink, pen to paper put, memory gone in a wink
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soren Barrett
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