This pretty pretty Sunday
morn I was just sitting
under the sun
and twindling my thumbs;
the bu'erflies a-flitting
around, a fun thing
to watch. The flowers
swaying, my heart a-flying,
when I noticed
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I sat slouched on my veranda,
The afternoon sun sucking sweat
Out like a thirsty predator.
The aura was monotonous,
And so were my thoughts, as I gazed
Heavenward - an atheist in silent
Supplication
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