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The Seed


October looks out to view the sky,
She says ‘Is that a shooting star or a satellite’..
It flashes brief into the night,
And her question is answered by silence.

It’s so spacious out in this abyss,
And the wind blows her a sweeping kiss.
It brushes softly across her lips,
And accentuates the quiet.

October, October, October, October.

October looks out to view the constellation,
And for all these stars I am void of conversation.
They twinkle & die without explanation,
But nothing around here changes.
The atmosphere frames her face,
An ethereal beauty in outer space.
Shame about the industrial waste,
Never decomposes.

October, October, October, October.