Fin

 

 

After the season has signed its name to its ending,

an idea of gladness enters my mind.

Work has ended,

every bird has flown the city and I am in search of a way to

contain resistance to the inevitable change.

I would like to invent an industry that strings all the sweetest

outcomes in life. They would be picked like ripe fruit and traded

for tears.

 

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About ingridfalconi

I'm a married mother of three and a published author.
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