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by Laryalee Fraser
Let sleep come softly, trailing scents
of sweet forgetfulness; the hush
of petals drifting down will mute
the sounds of life's discordant rush.

From crevices, the fronds of dreams
emerge; their feathered tips atone
for wrongs we've done as they caress
the secret pain that's ours alone.

Our aggravations sink in swirls
through layered pools of healing shade.
Let sleep come softly; it will lead
to flagstone mornings, newly laid.

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