daniel517

(Old stuff; I wrote this when I was still living in Miami.)

The day of sun
the day and its
torturous heat,
bring me the
night I plead.
Give me the
bright moon of
voices finely
aged I reach
for them, these
heroes I keep.

In essence
never apart I
want to speak
to old Walt,
Emily, Hart, I
want to reach
them. The
way...
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