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Late in the Afternoon

Updated on December 12, 2015
The motor bike
Set on kickstand 
It's wheel spinning
Backwards in the wind

The light reflecting window 
Shuts

Your face minutes before 
Scornful 
And now your beauty gone to sleep-
Your pink being hope

Torn by 
The apple bare
I remember now coming back from the sea
Wishing it tasted differently,
On and on

Such a touch
From the sky
Guides this rare earth
Of mocking thunder and rain

So many years
We fall and rise again
To feel the body steep
From the mountain's purple snow.

-Crete

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