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She's There
Cold, crumbled leaves fall slowly.
Bare limbs bristle in the chill.
A hush clings to the air—
hollow voices calling,
echoing of emptiness.
Emotions have departed,
Leaving a beautifully desolate shell,
numb– unwilling to care.
Hardened indifference
Begins to blossom
in warmth
Of spring air
By: Bernice Bowling
