Lovers Poem by Frank Gray
Lovers
The world pulls at the ethereal. Calling, questioning and unknowing. Often she comes at night whispering tales of long forgotten dreams, an unwelcoming sorrow made real by scars hidden amidst flowers. This elk is one that must not be given creeds, less all that is lost will be forgotten in an ocean of ashen memories and dim embers…yet she comes again with tender whispers.
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5/4/2024 7:50:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
