Age is a beautiful word,
inescapably chasing to no avail these
imperfect, rushing, ungoverned,
or simply,
untidy,
untidy,
souls.
and when we pause to breathe, we always manage to whisper behind,
as she reaches for our backs,
"godspeed".
and when we pause to breathe, we always manage to whisper behind,
as she reaches for our backs,
"godspeed".
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