
The sun beats down
on the golden hills of summer
the air is crisp and waiting
for the cold brush of fall.
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-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA
The sun beats down
on the golden hills of summer
the air is crisp and waiting
for the cold brush of fall.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina
Underwater, thoughts
crest and peel over blue
waves, frothed and demented
light enters water.
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-Alina
Quietly eyes skim
the crowd, searching
for familiar faces
in a foreign land.
There are no eyes that
meet, no expressions of
recognition, alone in
the mass, searching for
people lost in the past.
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-Alina
Golden suns moving across
the aqua sky, clouds fluffed
and silver like frosted glass
silently carried across the hills
by summer winds laced with
smoke and smog.
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-Alina
Hounds crawling up
through the dirt, from
firey depths below,
snarls and howls
pierce the midnight air.
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-Alina