All along the day
A million words spilled all over
Thousands of mails
And hundreds of calls
...
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There must be an hour for the soul. How else would we face tomorrow? Beautiful poem. As always, Sandra
You have a great strictness to your poetry. it's very concise and uses just the important ideas. i always have a tough time with that. i like fillers. =)
Beatifully put. Makes one wonder of all things important. Thank you for sharing...