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Sonja Benskin Mesher
Poems
Jan 2014
251
late we come, early.
winter still, warm.
approach the bridge,
the bridge in the village.
there hangs the cloud,
wipe the windscreen.
can you see, do you,
know where you are.
they came through the prysor
valley. family.
a cloud hung there too.
sbm.
Written by
Sonja Benskin Mesher
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