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Salon of Solo Poetry for Critique - Four
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Poem Number 848
over the ocean, tendrils of fog
like whisps of hair on an ancient brow
tendrils of fog, invading my brain
memories of you fading away
tomorrow the sun will shine
through the now delicate haze
to reveal my new life without you
Commentary:
"over the ocean, tendrils of fog
like whisps of hair on an ancient brow"
i really like this allusion :)
-t
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