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Comments about Jaacob Thomas
To An Old Dear Friend
Temple flowers bloom over your ashes-
a pure white blaze
in the light of that golden afternoon
Shards of memory but remain,
splinters from a time long past -
too few … too far between:
Your presence –well-nigh divine -
piercing through my fevered haze
And then..your touch-
cool …soothing.. unerring
guided by that unseen hand-
working its miracle of healing.
Then..in the cool of an evening -
pinioned in harsh beams I stand…
nervously mumbling callow inanities -
clutching at straws…
fervently wishing ...