The sun set
I watch a lady snap a picture
of a blooming tree with her telephone.
A future where nobody will check it out,
ceaseless shaking which wasn't
furthermore, isn't. I have taken photographs of a dusk.
Face to face, "goodness" "delightful"
however, the image must be
as fascinating as a word rehashed until discharged.
I think I trust this.
Nightfall the word holds beyond what a photograph could.
Since it reports the sun then, at that point, takes care of it.
We went to the poppy protect
where the poppies were not many yet liberal bunches
of them developed just external the fence
like a marginally horrible illustration.
I watched your face, barely too far.
The blossoms are decreased by the focal point.
The lady endlessly attempts to make it right
bowing her knees, shifting back.
I snap a picture of a dusk, with streak.
I who think I have something
to gain from anything didn't advance anything from the streetlamp
that sparkles unpleasantly into my room.
This is my photograph of a tree in blossom.
An idea unfurling
across someone's face.
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