The reaping
It's the reaping of corn I fear,billowing hills of snow no more,
the taste, the touch, all gone
in the blink of a day,
no see you, nor here before
to worry or die for,
just the blank silence
of the darkest hour
and the slow wake of midnight.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2008-12-29 at 00:38
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Zoya Zaidi |
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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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