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Synesthesia
May 9, 2018
The swirl of loneliness sounds like the howl of a winter's storm.
Unrelenting.
Unforgiving.
Snow up to my waist...
but the sun comes out, it's bright light smells like freshly-baked cookies.
Hope.
Warmth.
Both are a strawberry shade of pink.
© Matilda S., Perkinston, MS
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