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#21 MAG
Days have their Sleepy Tendencies
With Beetles on their Shores –
Their Hearts will glow – their cities burn –
With oceans on their Moors
I have drowned in Strawberry Jam
With Tulips in the snow
The Beetles’ hearts will Sweetly glow –
Toward paradise they yearn.
When Waxy Hope drips in lines –
The Sun cannot surmise.
It’s infamy – it has to be –
The Beetles’ stolen Prize.
Even the Sun’s most flickered Wait
Descends more than Fire –
It’s made of mountainous Candlelight –
it claims his Desire.
The Ruby Boss cannot Behold –
The Tarnished Copper’s flight.
It rains Soft – rules Alone –
The Tulips burned in Spite –
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