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Sarah Margaret
Poems
Aug 2012
Alas, Poor Yorick.
A feather
Of a feather
Aloft by chance;
Falling from Father Time's favor
As his footsteps
Leave history behind.
The ages of empires,
The scintilla of genius,
Are breaths of wind,
Flickering stars,
Far in the distance.
Alas,
Poor Yorick -
He never had a chance.
Written by
Sarah Margaret
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