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     diary at! contact me older entries newest entry These little conversations.

2008-04-07 - 4:06 a.m.

When the moon wanes and hangs
dangerously orange and
behind trees still naked,
hungry for spring,
and the wind smells
like fresh cut grass
mixed with the
scent of wild onion,
an old ghost
might appear.

And if you know
the right questions,
he might tell you all
that's all.

Have you the questions?

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