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Heart storm

Walking through my very own spring meadow,
In wintertime.
More buds than blades,
Blossom richer than ’76.

A verdant softness wraps me up with a smile,
As I bounce barefoot.

Hello?
A colourful lightness breezes by,
Chased by screaming cymbals, and thunderous drum.
You’re not welcome.

Widely forecast, a tumult ever so easy to avoid.
But still, I wear no raincoat.

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