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Poem 1: A Beginning

I sat and I wondered, to myself in my head, what shall I do before going to bed? "There's not much day left; there's no time ...

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Poem 228: Lonesome Noise

The silence around me echoes in voices unheard.
I know it is silence because noise once was there.
Its absence leaves a streak of grey
colored only by a replacement tide of change
which bury instead of mending past, dead things.
And then, in a brief moment of joy I am caught up in the spinning of the clock and chime
but when it passes, silence returns
and I am once again
alone.

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