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November
May 19, 2008
Red Scarf flutters from my neck,
catching the smallest mutterings
of the November breeze.
I know I should wrap it tighter,
Reign it in and control it,
But I cannot bring myself
to quiet the jubilant standard.
I make my way through the crowd,
My scarf fluttering behind.
I imagine it leaving a colorful track,
A sophisticated breadcrumb trail,
Visible in the crisp air behind me.
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