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// Friday, August 31, 2012

A Prayer, of Sorts

As I prepare for my final decline,
     I already know which way the wind will blow,
So I bow my head in quiet resolve,
     and ask the Lord for a final nod.


What melancholy feels like, and thinking about an elsewhere, an elsewhen, and an elsewho.

© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.