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tourism ***** FOGGY SHARP NOON

It is Baguio
And I am writing

Fog is falling
It befell us before and will again
White air lends its cold
Freezes the smoky balls from
Native bonfire down hills

It washes the pines
Whose pointed leaves lend
Music for the deaf

The noon gets more smoke
More cold now on my feet
Rays of the sun are tortured
Seem it refuses to shine forever
What a premature sunset occurs
Fog falls again
Like soft rain
Feeding the hungry earth

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