>"Comets’ Tails" A Wordling Whirl of Sundays #6- Wallace Stevens

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She doesn’t feel when she should,
preferring to sit cross-legged against
winds, watching fire striding strongly
on carefully constructed stone walls
She doesn’t cry when she needs to;
instinctively she’s too afraid of
turning into something dismal …
like fallen leaves crushed underfoot
An inverse border of planets
lines her twilight
She has become a surrogate
in someone else’s play
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