About the Poem
Bleak December. We'd been sending each other a new poem every work day. I finished work a few minutes early, and no poem had arrived. I simply wrote her what was in my heart.
|by Ted Reynolds|
|end of a tedious long day at work
longer because no sunshine
longer because no poem
longer because no you
but now there's the
long night ahead of me
long enough to think of you
long enough to write a new poem
long enough to await the sun's return
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