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blue mountain reserve

and we walked down a sinuous road

to gaze upon the slipping sun amongst skeleton trees

entangled she was in grass far too high

icy blunt chop made soft by sweet wind

and by the water she stood, angelic

bright baby blues in that crinkled white dress

it was mid October when everything starts to die

but she did not wilt

monochrome in both self and surroundings

we found solace in that grass

that tall, too high grass

it swallowed us both

and like the sun we slipped away

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