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The Wake
The Wake
The white ship slides serene, wind-blown,
heedless of its human burthen
while laying wakes but swiftly flown.
Mile-on-mile the dance of heathen
sunbursts play on flashing waters
pretty as maids, or bonds that weaken
as the leaving fades. The snows that fought us
in winters past, tall drifts in proud array,
melt clear in spring before our youngest daugh...
Friday 13th December 2019 1:08 pm
Time
Time
Time lies like a guardian angel,
lost in a past
that shall leave a trace,
safe within the pleats
of this life's fabric.
Look and remember
a white poppy's petal
that brushes gentle as night
across our peaceful faces
with silken care.
Chris Hubbard
2018
Tuesday 11th December 2018 3:44 am
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