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by Jessica Fanwong

                and i wake again

to the chirping birds

         the distant zooming cars

and rustling leaves –

             i will miss them

                 when i can no longer

hear or see them anymore,

          will i recollect these

moments – or will they

             become only vague memories?

                  buried in the back

of the dark storage closet where

           old things rust and rot

gathers dust in the graveyard of the dead

              that refuse to rot away