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Poetry
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| The Transients | |
| By ericthered | ||||||
| 21 September 2005 | ||||||
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Half a chance, Winding down an unknown road. An unquenchable thirst, Vanquished at the journeys end. I saw a reflection of the moon, In a crystal drop of dew. Unable to focus. A voice whispers from the trees. An unreachable memory of desire.
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