Aged

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The morning light touches me with a twinge of guilt,
When my sunken eyes peer through tear splashed glass.
The night of mighty dust gales had hidden stars from me.
The tempest of last night, has left my courtyard wet,
The rains washed my glasses clean, also the last tears.
Messed my hair, but smoothened out many other things.
The storm has passed now, now that morning’s hit the streets,
The winds, I had learned to tame, have blown me back home.

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