Her tears, gently wash over her, a baptism of pain,
Soaking into her skin, absorbed, then ready to flow again.
How many rivers would she have to weep, before her soul felt anew?
Endless evenings sorrowing, lamenting over the memory of you.
~The H Word~ by Hazel Urquhart
"Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood" ~ T.S. Eliot
Her tears, gently wash over her, a baptism of pain,
Soaking into her skin, absorbed, then ready to flow again.
How many rivers would she have to weep, before her soul felt anew?
Endless evenings sorrowing, lamenting over the memory of you.
Poet, Author, Editor, Facilitator
The Art of Prose and Poetry
Poet
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