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A poem or prose piece |
| I sit voiceless amongst the volumes Ink and paper Mind and thought My essence inundated by each yellowed page Admiration of intellect Faces blurred My heart austere What am I to do without you? Time was still Winter agreed Still I remember the profuse clouds of dreary gray The woolen Pea Coats And your ghostly words unspoken How could you not know? After all you have come to discern You The Hollow Man Dry and Coarse Passionate yet weary Poetic but all too involved You fell with the shadows You blew in the wind Then faded with nothing left to say Your newly imparted journey A departure This Hollow Man my muse Philosophy and ardor surrendered My muse When Gray billows give birth To hauntingly demure winter days. |