This sound cascading in my questioning ear.
White call of lost days crashing,
Stone echo of falling.
There is that setting place, before tainted joy.
As even and comforting call is filled,
Here to rest in hidden shore.
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Author:
Jon Nakapalau (
Offline) - Published: January 29th, 2019 17:40
- Comment from author about the poem: A way of looking at loss.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 13
Offline)
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