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Sunday, January 19, 2020

And I In My Island Of I

The world is too much with me
Noises and interruptions
Of endless disturbed and disturbing strangers
And I in my island of I
Surrounded by sights and sounds
Meaningless to me
Pen in hand
Across the small page
Write my name again
As if perhaps might not be erased.
Shalom Freedman
Topic(s) of this poem: world,writing
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1/15/2021 3:19:00 PM # 1.0.0.396