The end of an imperfect day
Thus the end an imperfect day
sank below all that was left
of aspirations and hope,
dragging loss behind curtains.
Stoic purpose folds in sleepy growth
of dark dreams approach.
What is gained will pass on,
a rewind with fading figures
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2006-03-25 at 00:57
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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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