The Beautiful View

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Along the road and down the path.
Passed the trees and the silver valayed bird bath.

Through the dirt all fresh and soft.
The ground cradles it gently like a gray night moth.

The beautiful view.
but only i knew.
The painted flower pot where the lemon blossom grew.

The pink sunset and the glistening lake.
Where nothing moves.
Its as still as a rake.

That afternoon when noone was there.
I realized something.
A nessential so bare...





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