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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems permission to use
provided by the author. |
Thirty-five moves slowly down the
pike,
Having still a little time to lose.
Infinity, of course, is what she's got,
Reduced a bit by death, but not a lot,
Time enough to while away and use.
Yet there are certain things in life she'd like.
For now is ever just the time to
strike,
Immersed in more intent than one might choose,
Voices one might otherwise refuse
Except that one would rather be than not. |