A Pair Of Goldcrests - Poem by Richard George
When you are this tiny, death
is a nudge; he, she
in the blink of an iris,
violet to red petals of rain,
the seven-octave of seeing.
Slight as you were
we miss you.
Sad as we are
We have glimpsed the soul of photons.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You