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Shorn

Shades of Light Drift on the Dawn
In a Tangled Web of Memory,
Where Ripples Touch what now is Gone
To Tantalize this Ache in me.

Crumbling Facade that once Stood Bright
With Colours Clear as Shimmering Morn,
Now Leak the Fading, Breaking Light,
Bleak and Cold as a Lamb first Shorn.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Image found at: crossingislandnatur.tumblr.com