Illusions of a fruit bar lay there in the light of rosé. Still life of a past, not past. Sometimes I see a vision of myself in glass. Awaiting, a waiting in disguise. No veil, no blindfold. Just transparent, today, yesterday, tomorrow. As shown in the illusions of pineapple pieces floating in mid air. At the bottom. At the close.

Lovely wordplay!
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Thanks Paul! I didn’t even see it was there.
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