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Cyber
Skirting
She never said
She wouldn’t,
And she never said
She would,
Sort of left
It hanging,
Like the aroma
In the woods,
Thoughts were left
Unshaven,
Like a lawn
That’s not been
Trimmed,
Not unlike
A whirring hummingbird
She darted in and out
Of him.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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