The rain falls soft, on an empty place

sat on a Spring cill of adolescence
far too
far too long into Autumn

are those clouds building?

legs swung over an unknown
the wasted knees numbing

           come in

from time to time
          join us

muffled bleats. drawn glass. steamed
cling film skin and flounder eyes

lines too deep to fill or cover
turn, knuckle the stone

the sun slips behind the wishing post
maybe it starts to rain, softly

all below lost in shadow
unknown, appropriate

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