Weeping Girl - Poem by Terry O'Leary
Your tears do not become your eyes.
Would my guitar weep in their stead
to drench and drown the shade that tries,
and charm a smile when woe has fled,
the fingers of my restless hands
would dance to soothing sarabands.
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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
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye