Letters are imprints
Thus the solitary man embracedall he could not understand,
nor did he need to fear the meeting;
it was all in the making of now.
Philandering spirits go down,
promises are no longer a norm.
Thus the insidious man bows
to the one side only of the coin.
Heaven is a dark sky;
an angel is a harbor at bay.
Dark is a bright intent.
Letters are imprints.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2011-02-07 at 20:27
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jenks |
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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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