Ethereal Moments The Poetry of Donavon Scott Vinson

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 Gone
In the darkest hours of the dawn
shall the golden memories spawn.
Awakening within me the the feeling
of a thrown away pawn.
A cigarette lit and a stifled yawn,
the memory of last night just spawned.
Oh what did I do last night that turned
you sullen and withdrawn so that you wanted
to be quickly gone?
Donavon Scott Vinson
  


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