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Somber not Sad
by Steve Tanham
A second on an icy breeze A chill that fears no coat A fading colour unafraid Of its own transition floats ➰ From the order of formed green To the falling of bronze The collecting whisper Is the voice of the colder wind ➰ North of the east and south of the west Nothing turns bad Culling life-magic, living no death Is somber not … Read More Somber not Sad
