Graphite

Entering the redness of the autumnal hedge
you have never felt a twilight or an end
but rather a gripping, quiet closeness,
air scrutinizing your breath with lit
trusting irises
and that old request of doing your best
to learn the environment, your first
school period just started, the smell
and taste of graphite, the imprint
of all that’s necessary and asks
for hue and skin.

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