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tabiaa, grey of my heart

Originally posted on Songs of Fragile Thunder:

can you hear the sunflower seeds?
they speak to me in tones of muted grey,
and amber twilight. Twisting melodies of
of charcoal and black greet me as well,
riding along the soft breath of the hushed breeze.

And here come the leafy plants,
bowing in rhythm to the beat of my
beleaguered heart. Theirs is the color of blood
red roses, whispering softly against white stark
walls, painted grey

and yellow.

but the last are the tides,
swept in by orange mist and
green-glass chimes that ring out, pure and true.
Their song plays on deaf ears like water for
the sun-dying, and

I wait, hands outstretched,
palms open and delicate.

grey, the color of life sits on my
palms silently . . . together.

And in two notes, a lullaby,
we’re swept away by rosy ashes.

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