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phogirl69
Flakefall
"The scythe of Autumn felled the withered day, and low the grazing Winter claimed new hay, in hungry double-handfuls." I am tempted by the echo of old lines to quit this forward place, but am arrived where boldly-stroked black letters lie succumbed in whiteness. "Once, before the snow had ever spoken harshly to the ground, it lay but as a gift." One sound returns me now unwilling to the page. "It is an age of cold white hysterical noise." 24 December, 2001 http://www.mathematicianspictures.co..._JPEG_ROSE.JPG |
That's a very nice poem, thank you :)
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