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Eyeing me, they dive deep,
demonstrating I do not see beneath the surface of things.
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The secret of life is life.
We all possess it for a while.
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The cicadas of late summer are silent.
Their crisp skins, strewn around
mixed with acorns,
lifeless leaves.
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Really liked these lines. They got to me for some reason which is what is so great about poetry. Thank you for letting complete strangers get a view of the world through your eyes.
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