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A symphony of grey and green
A southerly breeze
Holds me gently
Blows me up
the cold edge road
Easy going with the wind
And the white gulls are calling.
It's funny how
the wind blows stronger
When you turn to face it
And the rain
The was softer at your back
Blinds and stings
Black crows caw
Their raucous carol
They find their joy
Soaring the edge
As I speed down
Hiding my face from pain

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