Poem Hunter
Dots Of Obscurity
GC (fall '72 / live on on the alfonsina storni side of florida)

Dots Of Obscurity

Poem By gregory collins

To fall in love
I can hardly bring myself to say.
As though those far away hills
Always seem to be racing toward an end.
But as I get old
And at almost the same hour outworn.
I wonder what sins will they ask me about.
What patch of blue will smell of greening,
Or will the rising sun melt with an evening glow
As I stroll arm in arm into the ancient times.

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