A Summer Song
S Sandra Fowler
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Outside rain plays its prolonged summer song.
Gray windowpanes record earth's silent cry.
Faint light is just a whisper caught by time,
Words spare and elegant, long lost in space.
Fingers are warmed by what a mood can make.
Touch is as delicate as filigree.
Wind blows the candle of our landscape out.
It takes us, Friend, where all old raindrops go.
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