The vanity of being read (perhaps a homage to the dead?)
Is like the chirping of a bird, and yes, OK, the bird is heard,
But am I tree that falls in wood, a passing Grace, not understood?
Or is there tear in reader's eye, my verse discovered hug? I try
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You are a pro, as a friend, and exceptional as a poet. It must be like writing lyrics for song, some are successful, some don't belong. But to keep striving for those lines that strike one dear, keep up the good work, Brian, your countenance is primed... be confident... no fear! ! TC