In the evening when the lights go on
and I could hear the sound
of snow falling in the dark,
I think of the sunrises I have missed,
and the vow
of not wearing out
fidelity.
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Syria: The Prison Gates Thrown Open
2 hours ago
Sunday, February 6, 2011
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1 comment:
The play of light, and other times -- This poem sinks deeper on second and third reading. It would live well, too, in Classical Chinese, perhaps....
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