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The world may be warming, but the mercury's still falling.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Worser Flight

Little fly,
Thy summer's play.
My thoughtless hand,
Has brushed away.

Am not I,
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou,
A man like me?

For I dance,
And drink, and sing.
Till some blind hand,
Has brushed my wing.
Posted by Kanoyt at 11:28 PM

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