Richard Allen Beevor
Grey Dawn And Choirs Sing - Poem by Richard Allen Beevor
Perfect people live in perfect houses
they have overgrown needs, minds without love.
Concrete roads sink in the mud,
soft cement turns to dust.
Solitude is sought in the early hours,
at peace they all wish to be.
As love comes alive in the new born day,
when its quiet at grey dawn and choirs sing.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You