Eager to rest-in-peace on a shoo-away-fly day, leaves fell. A waning sun hid behind haze but proffered no surcease. Hoping to be consumed, one cheery lemon-ginger scone jumped into a lonely coffee-sipper's mouth. Stray thoughts of you too shall pass and be forgotten were slowly chewed. Nothing interrupted these ruminations. Life, once sought, sighed in the shallow breathing of should'ves, could'ves, and oughts. Ghosts of who-he-once-was turned pale, "Inhale!" Why? A tree just shrugged and let go another leaf. He'd leave soon enough. He turned to his inner-child to mouth, I'm sorry. It embraced him and whispered, takk for alt.
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