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the girl on the swing

The girl skipped off the swing

and walked away.


That swing is moving still;

caught, I thought at first,

by a slow wind.


But its twin, the swing

next to it, is dead still.


I think that I’m lost

in the sky, the leavings

of a butterfly;


eyes upon the ghost

that once was a girl.


4-5 September 2015

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