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Conor Clerkin
Poems
Jan 2011
Times
Even if I wore a watch,
as we talked until dawn
that pure summer morn,
gladly I'd have held the hands
to halt time's sands,
if it meant that serenity would linger;
But to the future,
time pointed with its finger,
and sailed us to distant lands.
Copyright: Conor Clerkin (January 2011)
Written by
Conor Clerkin
Wellington, New Zealand
(Wellington, New Zealand)
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