To the Woman By the Window
summer
turns with
the aging leaves
she carries
her days
on the bendÂ
of her shoulder
the drifting
weight of the morning
curls with the smoke
of her cigarette
summer
turns with
the aging leaves
she carries
her days
on the bendÂ
of her shoulder
the drifting
weight of the morning
curls with the smoke
of her cigarette
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