Timeworn Red, dullin bright sunshine,with edges worn, rounded.The history of thenand now in each separation,each drop that flowsbetween them a microcosmof all that has passed, will pass,the traffic of millennialeaving impressions upon whichall that follows is built. This poem is my response to Twiglet # 274: red bricks. Shared with Day 16 at napowrimo.net.
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