Focus: frail abstraction
Wrung out as dewy tips
Wetting the pockets fud
Fingers cry and tweak at
The focus. Morning looms
Weave time thru stitch back
A bit. The abundance
Sediments and heave the
Spade to shift to all to
Reface it when you turn
Around time refuses you
Hack at it infinite
The manual focus
The lone dexterity
Planting bulbs bordered by
Memory.
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