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Irving MacPherson
Poems
Jan 2015
One Is Elevens Rhyme
Over our head
creeps big time,
the only thing that is.
Freshly folded moment,
to alive to die,
Witness to the break
in the softer water's wave.
Now, back, forced to see,
no salve for the blind.
Sometimes, oh to be blind.
One is eleven's rhyme.
An older piece.
Written by
Irving MacPherson
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