To all old years gone
Time is a sure reckoning at all endswhere one is no more than the sum
of all that is left behind.
I see you at times
flickering in flames
and perhaps gas is the origin,
or at least, a foothold in my acuity
as pyrotechnics electrifies long lost faces.
This is to all that once
were touched by eyes,
by meetings with tenderness.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2008-01-17 at 22:33
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Rob Graber |
Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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