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Noto Bene

The light limps homeward I have sundry thoughts of you You would miss this too The swallows calling From the thatched roof of childhood No moon rise tonight Clouds are curtains here Nor moon, nor joy can cross them Owls mourn far away I know you trembled Not when sea-bound the willow wept No diamond rot Beautiful and bright Are words defining coldness too Or color of snow My hostage thought yearns For pillowed breast and good rest The frail dream of you

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

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