Strange
How odd, that buildings
And spaces in-between
Brews a lament
For things that went amiss
For people no longer here
And, unable to return
In a fissure of a moment
Or in the melody of a prayer
There is an echo
A residue of a dream
But in the mist of Time and Place
Melancholy is there…
To abate
Or at least soften the tears
For things that went amiss….
Thatcher Doran
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