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By Ellen Croften
Both in this glass sphere, shardless.
Unlike you, you won’t leave us this time.
You, the wingless metamorphosising angel.
Both of us masqueraded, you always are –
the wingless angel whose bi-colour eyes
flicker the bible of feeling; the dictionary of emotions.
Both in our glass sphere, as the world falls down.
Your face smudged across impartial walls,
the black and white image of your expression
convert these white walls into an unlimited spectrum.
Limitless, humanless, colourless but colourful,
the wingless metamorphosing angel
who left us – me – too soon.
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