nothing can outlast the coming
nothing can outlast the comingof days like thunder rolling
arid times like these with echoes
of too many summers on the line
a cold beer down by the pond
a soft breeze in the late afternoon
I can still hear the dead sigh
in the still dead silence of grass
there is a young miss now
walking the memory plank of I
but there was a bodily time
when we simply did not know
I rest my weary case on the sill
high on seeing the day at will
and yet and still
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2015-08-07 at 18:20
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Jamsbo Rockda |
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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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