Family

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Family

On th' grassy hill they lived
Oblivious to the world around
And not a sound
But did abound
Th' smell of rhubarb tart
And peach
Happiness within their reach
Among th' hills and trees they flourished
And th' soul was dearly nourished
Inside these walls
Was all they needed
For a love so dearly seeded
Nothing,
Nothing else is needed.

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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cor’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
All Hallows Eve 0
Poor Mary Allen 0
Family 0
Highgate 0
The Man In The Hall 0