Gen Soft Hands Poem by Mill Field
Gen Soft Hands
That which you treasure,
With soft hands hold lightly;
When the time comes for departure
Let there be no beating of wings against the bars of a cage,
But rather a gentle release into an azure beyond.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Topic(s) of this poem: wings
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8/28/2026 6:59:19 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
