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Steaming
May 3, 2013
Sometimes I look out my open
window in amazement at the trees
swaying in the still air.
No breeze enters my room,
no wind messes my hair.
They dance in the sun
like they're happy
that summer will arrive soon.
But, no breeze enters my room.
No wind messes my hair.
The forest is alive
with expectation, and old clouds
usher in the new.
Still no wind messes my hair, and
no breeze enters my room.
© Allison P., Chapel Hill, NC
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