A Poem by Kerry Orchard
The air is crisp,
the wind less stale,
the past dancing with slight lisp,
blown present, it is pale.
The heart surrendered,
the woes of rage and loss,
a path gone, once meandered,
a new bridge to cross.
Speak soul,
of a journey to yet come,
hearts healed whole,
tomorrow seen, yet away from.
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