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Futility

somewhere red poppies grow fertilised by blood sun and winter snow lost freedoms seed on widow's weeds sadness flows to that no-mans land where, there are, but crows

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012




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Date: 3/10/2020 10:20:00 AM
Brian, your poem is wonderful _Constance
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Brian Strand
Date: 3/10/2020 10:36:00 AM
Cheers Constance
Date: 3/9/2020 5:07:00 AM
I love this.
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Brian Strand
Date: 3/9/2020 6:40:00 AM
Cheers Gary.
Date: 5/24/2012 10:52:00 AM
awesome ,
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Book: Shattered Sighs