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SACRED MEMORIES

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  • SACRED MEMORIES

    POEM # 327

    SACRED MEMORIES
    Sacred memories the country wild,
    Seized from the vain town, streets so mild.
    Small huts, with candles for the living dead,
    Half seeing, half blind, more books to be read.
    Still straining at the door, we escape not,
    Little maids, little lads, many forgot.
    Prisoners all, now bone of your bone,
    Watching the sunrise, dusk stands alone.
    But no, behind each day months do pass,
    But oh, memories of tall green grass.
    Garner concerns of girls in spring,
    Remembering, with tears do bring.
    Once more, once more memories do start,
    Once more, once more gathered to our heart!

    Written by Carl Mann
    The kurlman
    2-15-2015


  • #2
    This made me sad, but it is beautiful as well. Great job!

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    • #3
      Thanks I must be doing something RIGHT!

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