Poetry
I try to pretend that I'm a proficient poet... (I'm not.)
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The Bridge ~ Into the Night
Everyone has a bridge to cross.
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Autumn in an Oaken Dell
Beneath the gnarled oaken arms, a world of red gold...
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Them
They hear you.
Everyone has a bridge to cross.
Beneath the gnarled oaken arms, a world of red gold...
They hear you.
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