Softly falls her hair in midday sun,Gently falls my stare on the runOf her hand, through her hair. As of all the goddess; I can compareYou to them all. In the midnight moonlight —Darkness is invisible,The sorrowful departure is inevitable. For I must wake againAnd the morning will take you again. by Robin McNamara AsContinue reading “LA DOULEUR EXQUISE”
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Robin McNamara Poet 