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Ghosts and Crows

Ghosts and Crows A crow flew past me. Close and fast. The breath from her wing Smelled of roosts and Broken roofs And ghosts in Forgotten rooms Where love was made And children played. But not these days. Flying home that night The crow dropped a feather At my door. Was it for luck or love, Or something else? Something I don't know Anymore?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005




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Date: 1/26/2016 11:11:00 AM
BOB, Excellent read. Great flowing piece. Have a nice day. ** SKAT **
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Date: 8/5/2010 11:20:00 AM
good omen and good poem
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