Poem written by Greg on Wednesday 20, February 2019
or prose... i struggle with the differences.
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I found place to stand
Among the maiden grass,
Heels cradled in the loam.
Though warm light spilled through the boughs,
My body shivered,
Like a quaking aspen screams
To all the sentiment inside you,
And the impulse to cast off your worries.
Then, in the west wind,
Make amends with your imperfect love
"For one who reads, there is no limit to the number of lives that may be lived, for fiction, biography, and history offer an inexhaustible number of lives in many parts of the world, in all periods of time."
-- Louis L'amour
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