THE CALL

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POEM – THE CALL

Whistling, the wind carries the love call.

Deafening, the echo opens their door.

Innocence, the past wrote on the rebuilt wall.

Blinding, their love always stood on the floor.

Spiraling, their truth began the brawl.

Sweetness, their mouths tasted no more.

Reality, this one doesn’t need a curtain call.

@sugaroc Sarah Martin

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