Mist
B
Bill Cantrell
0
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As my days come to a close
and the gloom comes creeping in
I hear the dust calling out to me,
"It time to shed your skin"
Here we are, just but a mist,
over quickly as a dream
Funny though I can barely see,
the grass has never been so green
All the things I've said and done,
here they are taking off my boots
Now I'm on the underside,
patiently waiting for the roots
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