Jack Ewing
"Yeah, I can write that."



















 

 

                     

           

 

A Wealth of Silence
 

She will not speak.

My words like

A handful of pebbles flung

Glance harmlessly

Off her great stone face.

 

What transpires within?

Perhaps she cannot hear,

Lost in her own

Dim recollections

Of times that never were,

Of things as they ought to be.

                       

            A heritage lost,

Diluted by time and distance.

 

 


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