SongA Poem by Ken Simm.
We pour mist into lost fields cross the stars We find painted idols, canvas marked like playing cards We dream, a sign of leaving, taking hours We sing, all sadness of final scores Shall we wait to carry on? © 2008 Ken Simm.Featured Review
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Compartment 114
Compartment 114
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16 Reviews Added on February 10, 2008 AuthorKen Simm.Scotland, United KingdomAbout'I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience' Thoreau. For all those who .. more..Writing
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