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Hilda
Poems
Jul 2014
Gone
Time hath ceased.
All clocks stopped.
Where you passed by
in dew kissed meadow,
void of thy presence.
We hear no more
at our door
thy gentle knock.
After thy passing
and before
persistent loud cry
of Whip-poor-will.
Now that is still.
Silence.
**~Hilda~
© Hilda July 4, 2014
Written by
Hilda
Imagination and Notebooks
(Imagination and Notebooks)
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