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christian poetry

what spiteful chance steals unawares
in the cloud-gray mornings
i fill this cup
she was a beauty in the days
three years ago today
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
lady, your heart has turned to dust
made up of loveliness alone
she said
he's gone
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
gaily through the fields we danced
one by one, like leaves from a tree

 



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