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  Tracy M. Rogers
   
     

Funeral Pyre

Take from me my widow's rags
And cast me on the funeral pyre
To be consumed by the fire
And emerge new and clean
Let my soft gray ashes
Scatter to the wind
And take me to the four corners
To places I've only seen in dreams


Dusk

The red and purple sky glimmers
Through pale green curtains
The shadows of the leaves sway
In the cool evening wind
And the birds tap on the window
And then fly away to their nests
When the horizon swallows the daylight

And the night consumes the world

 



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