Cadence
A nasty fog
With a nasty grip
I feel the tendrils
A chill, a rip
As my heart gets invaded with the fear
A beckoned sun
Rises on its own
I feel the beams
A light, a warmth
Rising up like a great shield
Warming heat
Brightening light
Birth of life
Death of fright
The flower blooms in majesty
K, Duane Carter 5-12-11
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