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Before

Didn’t I know you?
Before.

Ages back?
When we stood together, incarnate?

Didn’t I know you?
Before the pitch pine dried up,
Before the fractious winds presaged doom,
Before the monks in their abbeys wailed in fear,
Before the sky tumbled into oblivion.

Didn’t I know you?
Before.

When I had pockets,
When I was a man?


-LFB, 2010

Comments

  1. Pockets.
    They make or break you.
    Seriously, though, lovely.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Seems I'm running out of pockets too. Seriously, it is lovely.

    ReplyDelete

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