Wednesday, December 5, 2007

A Fallow Man Comments

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Swarthy brow and barley fingers; nails with cheerless moons of grime;
Deadweight sackcloth suit coarse fitting; long his laughter, short your time.
His hand on your shoulder makes you older, holds you where the clocks don’t chime.
His grinning bearhug makes you bolder; reason does not sit with rhyme.
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Grahame Lockey
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