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Silence

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  • Silence

    It comes and goes and echoes
    Eerily like the wind
    When coldness visits the bone
    And you are most alone
    Incarcerated in the small cell
    Of brooding thought

    The stones my oafish brothers
    Bathe often in its luxury
    Remembering their lives
    As bright fiery tongues
    When they were full of speech
    And you were nowhere

  • #2
    Yep, the enigmatic beauty of a signature Tanner poem! Another four-bagger, Tanner!

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