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This Sit Is Cryptic
The night is not lit,
By bright Sun light that comes.
Nor are gifts exchanged in darkness,
As promised to everyone!
Imaginations finding truths,
That don't exist to soothe.
Keeps the whining visited...
For those contemplating,
A romantic interlude!
Even though this sit is cryptic,
As a dose to keep those teased.
Anointing lunatics to fix this...
Ages the patience for those who wait,
For the perfect opportunity!
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
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