vazambam
new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer's block
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Saturday, January 7, 2017
Sleeping on It
Above the little house
Under the giant oak,
A rasping wintry over-
Night rattle of leaves
Letting go, blanketing your body,
Your wrinkled eyebrows
Telling
Something there is
In your limbs
Your bones should know.
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