Written by Sunrise colored sky.
Beholder’s gift, mine.
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- The end of the street, where turns are made and people meet.
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- Historic mills on the Merrimack, with purple swirling skies in the back.
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- Lights aglow, smoke climbs and curls, the skies part like separate worlds.
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- Arrows on signs on which we rely, but in the grand colors I want to fly.