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Writer's pictureDarkling Thrushes

Faithful

Updated: Aug 20, 2023

Tomorrow you’ll be to me:

As in Pharaoh's closing eye.

As an orphan’s lullaby.

As a failed poet’s sigh.

And on that day, I to you:

A palette without dark blue.

A chasm at the closed zoo.

A refrigerated stew.

Hand in hand we’ll slowly walk,

Beneath spinning fountain-clock,

Half-way up the busy hill --

Smile and nod, though seldom talk.


__________

Copyright 2022 Jeffrey Merk

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