Indian Summer
B
Barry Middleton
0
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something
from the spring
that keeps us going
that clears the winter sky
and coaxes deceived buds
and doomed butterflies
to taste the bogus season
sends men out for reckoning
tired of contemplating walls
a yearning instinct
pent up
frozen desire
and mixed
with a toast to memory
the touch of a gentle hand
the hope for bluer skies
a lover's sigh
before the pretense dies
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