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Never Too Late
As the moon hides behind the grey clouds,
As the soil smells of petrichor,
As the wind blows colder than usual,
That’s when I know,
That it’s never too late,
For the sky to melt,
In the heat of love by the sun,
For the land to enliven,
The butterflies it feels,
For the breeze to kiss you,
With my random poetries.
