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poem for pastors

i loathed you
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
were it not for that singular smell
a mile behind
i stood by the open casement
the stars fell from heaven
there was a strangeness on your lips
sleep, gray brother of death
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
melancholy days have come
a pen of steel
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
love has been sung a thousand ways
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow

 



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