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Lost Sense

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Amidst the doom days… Of her passing…
Mourns rivalry…. Against wind scornfulness…
Swept abreast… Fields shedding weep…
No longer could the drums beat loud enough..
To silken ~ The grave face of sudden lost..
Whilst no longer… Did the future shed meaning..
Nor did the present or past ~ Serve sense…

© 2016, John (Rick) Boyle. All rights reserved.

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LOVE IT