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Falling Short Of Words
from this window
glass i see narra trees
the leaves had fallen
it is cold
i am alone looking carefully at the details
of leafless twigs
branches are dry
barks are cracked
the grasses below are brown
beside the fence two boys are playing hide and seek
cars blue and white and black are parked
in one area like gossiping women
i am alone thinking about some details
falling short of words.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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