Floating clouds hang low, the sky a grey mirror,
Drops fall in a long stream,
Out there , they spill and splatter,
Is it the earth that spills the drops ,
In a stream up to the clouds...
Is this day , another's prelude, or just a mirror?
To my dreamless nights,
Or to my slumbering wakefulness?...
Poem by Pc- 3 (04/05/2025)
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