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Orange city night glow
Makes me nervous
Trees are better to reflect
The sky night light;
The moon off the wet roads
Shining off the base of the palm of leaves,
On a Sunday morning.
A leaky gutter and a blowing wind
Welcomes the outside debris,
Gravel, stones, deaf leaf
And the rain, from being splashed against
The outer windowsill, lands inside
So I get damp trousers when
I’m going to buy a rain mac
The most childlike innocent type,
The large cloud gliding
Down the street; red or blue, yellow or
Or white, black
You’re a walking tent
Bound to the confines but you’re your
Own room, how cozy.
Unfortunately the baby cries and
Drains the roll of it’s
The thunder rolled;
The lightning set the sky on fire,
The leaves turned orange in a day, but
Drops of water fell and still,
The baby cried.