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Memory Lane

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Looking out the window
I see a mirage
Of myself
And I feel like a fool

In the window
I see long, old ruts
Blazing a trail

The old marks
In the parched earth
Persevere
Through persistent frost
And cold hail
Threatening
To erase their
Identity

Through the window
I see myself
As an intricately patterned
Landscape
On the earth

I look at this landscape
Through the window
And I see a mirage
Of myself
And on this landscape
I plant
Beautiful flowers





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