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Hurt after Healing ©

John McCallum
Falkirk, Scotland

How ye pierce fine rays of June,
To sever thoughts of doom and gloom,
The same yer thirst for puddled water,
That lifts to leave the dirty matter.

How ye gift all dress new thrill,
Sees blooming nature dressed to kill,
For frisky Bee a brush o many,
For ageing eyes the thought - if any?

How ye spread yer warm emission,
That loosens tongues withoot permission,
Replacing script and knee jerk phrases,
Wi smiling tones and honest praises.

How ye tend to shine too much,
Your fiery hair that stains by touch,
Deep burning layers that soothe in pain,
Can smoulder spiteful just the same.

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