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If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013
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A Summer's sun greets
A gloss resebles rainbow--
Mother-of-pearl basks.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2011
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Solo sylvan-hued
Oregon Grape postures firmly;
Spring kisses blossoms golden.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013
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Forsooth blessed be the very first breath,
Life - quoth a preparation thought far brief.
O we fade as being kissed by death;
Hath thy day been seized therein a dream brief?
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2011
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A confronting breeze
Wands of willows are dancing --
A Summer's twilight.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2011
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Faint Purple curtain
adorns Mt. Hood's silhouette;
Into Spring's night each fades.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013
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A calm sparkled pond
bear fish 'neath a woody foot bridge;
Now Spring's Cherry Blossoms.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013
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A meadow of Spring,
due west evergreens peering down;
yonder above snowy Hood.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013
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O Nadine,
death has momentarily
revealed its face.
Thy name shall ne'er go in vain.
Yea, thou prepareth for a
journey of splendor and grace.
O he Lord
hath laid a destine path for thee
leading unto a divinely,
heavenly, serenely kind of place.
For thou art a
flawless redest rose and the
heavens be thy vase.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2011
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I am but a man treading a brief dream.
I'm but a man rowing a sacred stream.
A student of life seeking knowledge yet;
Contented with the cotton therein his closet.
Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2014
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