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Jun 2013
My Grandpop's box has a word in bronze
Nailed into the lid
Of smooth plastic - fingerprints
On the box where the past is hid.

What cloistered things
What daring lives in the passage of the years
Lie dusted, browned, rimed with rust,
Blotted of fargone tears?
Becca
Written by
Becca
636
 
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