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Tanka Prose
Nights in White Satin * It’s not just the music, the minor key plaintive sound or the voice, the anguished cry of loneliness and longing,...
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oh, this wind! it sweeps me past my gate then spins me home spring clean-up- in the sweat of hard work a settling peace solid gray sky- fors...
2 comments:
Bravo; nice one Adelaide.
Happy you dropped by ny blog today.
Much❤love
thank you, gillena
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