The old yard
Lost in a bleak summers day
of old carved stones
and mossy grass that will not moan
I dare the coming to carry light
that I again might see the why
all things come to pass.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2008-07-08 at 15:34
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Stan Cooper |
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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