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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Jul 28
One more Sunday
Miracles
or debacles.
A tale
Damocles looking pale
the sword is about to cut
and there but for the Grace
of God
go I,
then
into the valley where the shadows grow on trees
crawling on arthritic knees
to
please this God of Grace
whose face
I do not know.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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Weeping willow
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