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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:47:13 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 88928
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Cross
[time] => 2005-03-27 08:07:27
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Through her scarlet fingers, She turned the cross, An emblem of hope, despair, a reminder of all that she had lost, The tears she was crying now Fell from her face She didn't bother to wipe them It seemed pointless, it was far too late. All the protection she thought it would bring, It was her mothers Passed down through her family, time and again, It was silver and plain, with an ordinary chain, She hated to take it off, It was a symbol of intent, A show of Love. It was a message to God But now she had had enough. She rolled it between finger and thumb A doubt had set in This hurt could not be undone, The cross in her hand fell to the floor, She left the room This love was no more. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 216 [topic] => 64 [informant] => Urizen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
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