to a friend, #3
i listen to your singing through dark night
among bookshelves
in hollowed stores
on back fields left unplowed,
and i have no voice to compare to you,
no way to say what it is that
makes life more precious in your lines.
i listen to your singing through dark night
among bookshelves
in hollowed stores
on back fields left unplowed,
and i have no voice to compare to you,
no way to say what it is that
makes life more precious in your lines.
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