William Brendan McPhillips


The Sense Of Love

A leaf alone, in Autumn moon and night,
In Winter turns to lantern, golden light;
A group of gulls in gossip, fog and ear,
Can rob the mind of solitude and fear;
An ocean breeze can often be retraced
A mile away on lips and tongue and taste;
A crowded street, a meadow, forest, swells
The nose the way a pillow does and tells;
A hand, a breath, a patch of sun, is such

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