Gently a Coarse Hand Slides Across the Balmy Pavement

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Gently a coarse hand slides
across the balmy pavement,
where the gleaming sun shines,
and the feisty waves strike
as the docile clouds drift by.
Here, no cares exist,
nor thoughts of revolution;
the only moving soul is the wind.

My head is my mind is my brain,
and I close my doubting eyes-
cautiously counting the ascending steps.
There is nothing but a concrete sky;
tomorrow is gone,
and later is another day.





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