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Bound by nothing that is common To the ragged soul of man, Nothing that causes the insistent pulse to quicken Or the measured step to slow, Her eyes divert attention from the evening's afterglow And lead us toward the chambers of the sea. Waking the dead with frozen hands She ventures forth but once a year To tease the mind and tempt the ear With stories of the spring. Copyright © 1997-2018 by Benjamin Toney. All rights reserved. Image credit: The old grey teacher | Photography by Zena Holloway | United Kingdom

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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Date: 12/18/2018 9:58:00 PM
Waking the dead with frozen hands// wonderful imagery here, lovely poem
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Date: 10/19/2018 11:04:00 AM
Hello Benjamin Toney, this poem is beautifully created by you. It has deep meaning. Have a nice day my friend.
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Date: 7/22/2018 2:29:00 AM
lovely, intriguing
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