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The Sound Never Dies ..

The prompt Southern rail shakes the whole town as she passes- through ,from park swings to the church bells , from her tin roofs to- her dilapidated structures , the pleas of a defunct wishing well , felled -drywall ,- a ghostly flour mill , tar paper at the mercy of a

January breeze , fish wrapper snapping in once regal pecan trees ...

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Written by
randolph-l-wilson
Published
Jan 30
Lines·Words
2·64
Notes

Copyright January 30 , 2026 by Randolph L Wilson

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