When the morning sun reveals every grain of dust on my desk, and papers, and books, I see oxen and stars.
Random Note, April 1, 2010
Someone
Someone sewing masks. Someone dropping bombs.
Someone preaching hatred. Someone washing hands.
Someone lights a candle. Someone whispers love.
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Diaries, Journals, Love, Oxen and Stars, Pandemics, Poems, Poetry
