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The harbor bethel's bells toll in funereal reprise, the snow-dressed February crocuses, and a regal cardinal's bright red plume border the lacy-white wrought iron garden bench, It is here that I bid you in whispers my departed love - to encircle me in the sweetest rhythmic sway of a dance of hereafter. ~
Rating
Average: 5 (1 vote)
Sat, 2022-11-12 10:21
#1
I was moved by this evocative piece.
Member poem of day minimum and  golden horizons beyond, Regina.
Once more heartiest congratulations on recent member poem award
M