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August 20, 2007

  • Writer: Angie Nabrotzky Lassig
    Angie Nabrotzky Lassig
  • Sep 13, 2020
  • 1 min read

Updated: Sep 14, 2020


I caught myself during a passing storm,

I held tight, though the ropes were

wet and rough.


I dried myself in the spring breeze,

the sun warm and inviting.


How could I mis-place something

so vital?

It was a trap, a trick,

I was lulled to sleep and awakened

by the storm.

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