Onion volcano,
shrimp tales,
another year older.
Smoke & Fire
But the most important
person isn't there.
Sorry, Abigail.
-----
As the sun shines on
my face, I sit and watch:
as the wind sweeps over
the grass, the leaves
fall off of their dormant
branches, into the air,
the water form a waterfall.
-----
The crisp, wet,
grass lays
still.
Only to move
when crushed.
The frosted
grass a
remembrance
of fall.
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