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John Ingman Poem
Glazed, hollow eyes, all memories lost;
Skin gray, colorless as the soul of a foot;
Whistle of last breath, gasp, chest tossed;
Heartbeat couldn’t smear a patch of soot;
Still, now that’s that, the Reaper crossed.
Copyright © John Ingman | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
John Ingman Poem
If I lay down to take a nap and never stir again, would the universe Be my playground, would you still be my friend? Could I dry the Tears of loved ones, tell them all is well, take their hand, guide them Over ever hill? Would I see the world as yesterday, smell the fresh Mown grass, feel the ocean’s salty mist, be free of pain at last? Since Nobody can answer my concerns, I’ll say it is this way, this is how I Care to believe as I live my life each day.
Copyright © John Ingman | Year Posted 2017
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