The Bell Poem by James McLain
The Bell
Like so many times before you hate I came.
And when again I am and have no love.
Yet sunset comes for most before sunrise.
While the window knows,
and hides our parting clever eyes.
Tell me father sitting high and low.
The only death I know is what I own.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
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5/9/2024 11:24:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
