I see his skull. Shadows
in the eyes. A moment
where sun flops on trees. Fish
for the breeze. Nothing
is never
far enough. Nothing ever
too close. Nobody loves
just one.
I see his skull. Shadows
in the eyes. A moment
where sun flops on trees. Fish
for the breeze. Nothing
is never
far enough. Nothing ever
too close. Nobody loves
just one.
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Poetry from an English Hart