#1725-Wet
21/04/2022
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A tilted day.
Hard to know,
Which way to turn.
Church bells chime,
Falling raindrops dance,
While a lone face,
Upwards glances.
Eyes closed.
Shivering cold.
Wet, in a dreamt-up world,
Nobody knows.
Maybe the church bells,
Raindrops, or empty streets,
In search of hope.
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