Poems
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reunited, not by time’s grace
but by death’s gentle hand
The man had yet to see
this time
the road less wandered
lay to his left
not straight ahead
The boy began to dream
his toys now left behind
It inhaled again.
I said, maybe next time.
reunited, not by time’s grace
but by death’s gentle hand
The man had yet to see
this time
the road less wandered
lay to his left
not straight ahead
The boy began to dream
his toys now left behind
It inhaled again.
I said, maybe next time.