Bells
Echo
Sunday
Hymns
Long
Past,
Every
Antique
Verse
A
Blast,
Singing
The
Old
Story
Of
Palejesus
Glory.
In
The
Glare
We
Share,
The
Message
Fell
Into
Shade,
Weak
Of
Structure,
Bound
To
Fade,
But
All
The
Music
Stayed,
And
I Still
Sing
Everything.
Church
Bells Echo Sunday Hymns Long Past, Every Antique Verse A Blast, Singing The Old Story Of Palejesus Glory. In The Glare We Share, The Message Fell Into Shade, Weak Of Structure, Bound To Fade, But All The Music Stayed, And I Still Sing Everything.
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Poetry
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As Dust, Time Falls In Particles To Cover All My Precious Articles. Rust Invades And Decays Monuments Of Words I Say, And My Music Fades Away, But Stubbornly, I Remain, Would Sweep The Years Clean, And Do It All Again. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
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