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Behind every dawn
A death
A fading collection
Of lived in moments

Some disappear
Without thought
Sucked in by the dark
Blindly forgotten

Others tease
As fireflies in the night
Their manifestation
A chance unknown

The ubiquitous
Does the haunting
Creeping beneath
Midnight skin

Plucky kidnappers
Seize the spirit
With a vision
Of what might be

Glowing twinkles
From the day
Stars to carry
Through the next

The wise old soul
Singles out
Each night’s treasure
For his waking.


Filed under: Poetry

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A playful story seeker, Pip helps businesses communicate better.

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