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Baby Girl

Lying in the morgue aneath it's dim light Her corpse, both motionless as left behind ? Pulling up unto his curb while decades have come Thus then gone; held these years, when beauty fled A breath she flew ? Purged of tears which hold their sight... Climbing time's steps with, eager hands; and love, shall turn this key.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things