walkabout can’t tell
are our tracks no-one across
welcome the hand held
one else who has lost
a butterfly’s turtle tear
that fear a stranger
many arm’d as those
incidentally unharm’d
what time a war crime
Poetry
walkabout can’t tell
are our tracks no-one across
welcome the hand held
one else who has lost
a butterfly’s turtle tear
that fear a stranger
many arm’d as those
incidentally unharm’d
what time a war crime
I still am not getting my follow posts of people. I scrolled down the reader to see if I could find you. By the by I liked this very much. Bit on the somber side but suits you well. Best >KB
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Some part of me died, KB…perhaps, I’m not there
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too much killing and violence….why must life for some be so immediate to death?
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intelligent design?
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Reblogged this on Eagle Eye Network.
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Thank you…
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