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Pyrrhus smoked the sun (Free verse) by SupremeDreamer

Sand castles fell at dusk during the suns stifled yawn; here amongst the ruins we trudge speaking in silence since words no longer carry meaning. The frigid wind whistles its tune pressing against us as boots scrape the last grains of our spirit into the receding ebbtide. Flames consume the sky, evanescing as smoke rises to dance over the ashes; even the sun must crumble before he can rise again.

Jill Stockinger 2-Jan-21/6:16 PM
I found the idea of "as boots scrape the last grains/ of our spirit into the receding ebbtide" a bit too opaque




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