Array
(
[sid] => 152787
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Hidden Places
[time] => 2009-09-01 13:42:06
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => In that remote part of my mind I never reveal,
That blessed sanctuary where I often steal.
There lies the real id of me,
Never the light of day to see.
Stored here are things with which I cannot deal,
Fantasy images my mind has made real.
Shadow box images in still from forgotten times and places,
memories, tattered and worn, all gone now but these traces.
Sounds of church laughter and church tears in yards
Where they’re laid my loved ones low,
It is here I visit with memory and its bittersweet echo.
[comments] => 0
[counter] => 141
[topic] => 13
[informant] => merle
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 0
[ratings] => 0
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => DarkPoetry
)
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