Chapter 79: you can rest now
A sprinkle of toes
Pivot upon
Stone of ages
Where the life is drawn
Of counting days
Blithe hair-filled knots
To the memories
Concoct
Padded skins
Under a patchwork of fingers
Grazing, they are;
Wishing to feel
They were too real
Instead of cold rock
That is gray
As their heart
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