Jorah Gentry

The Passionates

Have the souls of our generation become callous and numb
Like over worked hands that will no longer caress
Where has the passion gone
Has it slipped away
Like the sun over the valley when the sky is pink with fading light

Cries go unwanted…unheard…unanswered
The suffering is silent
Like gentle snowflakes floating through the cold night air

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