An Imperfect Offering


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Seasoned


We met full sail as summer swelled and  we ran free beneath borealis skies, sun-kissed.   September's sweet caress coaxed us to sway in the starlight as summer's leaves shed their emerald hue   splattering crimson across our craft brittle and thin as our words: How’s work? How's your mom? Did you feed the dogs?   Frost snaked aft and fore across line …

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