Of saffron skies and a forgotten moon

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At some point in life probably when the summer evening tangoes with an oncoming storm, I might wake up to the fact that my best days stand frozen in a time across that pond and though much is accomplished and much is wont…nothing really compares to those now bizarre days …life on the back of a cinnamon flute …flowing behind many a pied piper …on broken wings of a golden butterfly ….fragile as walls made of rice ….shining like a diamond in the nude .

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13 thoughts on “Of saffron skies and a forgotten moon

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