THE
TIDE
The
tides bend
like
waves of shadows
forlorn
movements
into
walls of darkness
in
the eve
when
the night falls
and
the storm rolls in
fireflies
are gone
and
children are asleep
everything
turns into
balls
of fire
that
is nothing more
than
helping what we find
like
broken bones
and
things long gone
into
the lone woods
where
nothing moves
except
the lone wind
and
the shaking branches
of
ever swift moving hands
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