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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 20:55:27 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 7647
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Day Break
[time] => 2002-11-29 12:00:00
[hometext] => This poem is about a very special lady, named Kate.
[bodytext] => At dawn she lay with her profile at an angle
Which when she sleeps, seems like the carved Face of an angel Her hair a harp, the hand of a breeze follows And plays, against the white cloud of the pillows Then, in a flush of rose, she woke, And her eyes that opened Swam in blue thought her rose flesh that dawned. From the dew from her lips, the drop of one word Fell like the first of fountains: murmured upon my ears the song of the first bird “Darling” “My dream becomes a dream,” come true. “I waken from you to my dream of you”. Oh, my own wakened dream then dared assume The audacity of her sleep our dreams Poured into each other’s arms, like streams. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 249 [topic] => 16 [informant] => Panther_1978 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => FriendshipPoetry )
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