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The sun on the edge of things
Masked, behind a veil
Sometimes bright
Warm,
A golden pool,
Sometimes cool
like milk in a pail.
He has gone.
All summer long
He has woven his way
In wefts and warps
Along the road
Over the meadows
Between the walls
And now he's gone
Taking my summer dreams
Streaming like soft feathers
Behind him.

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