Pages

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Slow Sunday mornings come

With heavy rains and old poems

Read like prayers in reverse… Like

Love letters found after many, many

Years

.

Coffee and raindrops salute

This day:

I listen to the words of

Love and Freedom

Spoken by the mouth of a dead poet.

I find myself

Revisiting places; reviving

Feelings… I speak the written words

.

He becomes alive again

Every single time —

I bring him

Back to life

In every page

I turn

.

ML

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