Loren Jarvis


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Pantoum For A Lost Child

You in the cold and wrapped in winter lace,
The wind with grace moves down the cheerless field.
I cannot send you sun except my heart.
My tears impede the vision of your face.

The wind with grace moves down the cheerless field.
The stones lie still as children fast asleep.
My tears impede the vision of your face.
Perhaps what was will in the spring be healed.

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