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Poetry

Guarded girl.

The windmill of the gods,
Chimes on and forth,
Beckoning that the time has come,
To move on; but no longer as one,
To open up the door that which is on lock,
To let in the first young warlock,
That comes beating down its walls,
To let gravity go of the earth,
Fall fast like there’s no air,
And no longer be a guarded girl.

Day 13 of 100.

4 thoughts on “Guarded girl.

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