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Stone Stories

November 27, 2019
tags:

Late I came to love
what I’d lost,
fled from,
and clung to.

The cloud clotted sky
hangs over the autumn
fields – pale gold, green, and empty –
racing past
the life I built.

Finding the route
to my beginnings, buried
with only stone
stories, I grieve
my losses.

One Comment leave one →
  1. Terry Curts permalink
    November 27, 2019 1:31 pm

    WOW
    So strong❤️

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