Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

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Brook and Stone

 

Last year's leaves

on the careless, stoical trees.

Days not yet out

of the tunnel of winter.

I cross the brook

on wet stones

not knowing that I love you.

 

Eyes weep

at last year's hatred

hearing the leaves,

brook

and stone

this year, last year, weep,

not knowing that I love you.

 

Alone in your bright house

year after year

you sing and smile,

grit back the memories

of my words

with brook song

not knowing that I love you.

 

Alone we suffer

never together

each hearing

the brook's rush

its tears over fate

the stone's song —

not knowing that I love you.

 

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