Dear Grampa Harry if your hand came now dead in the death of night to touch my forehead waking me to see you standing there, in the death of night i who fear ghosts would have no fear at all id greet you with the tenderest hello and you would smile, though sad and then go there would be nothing deathly in your death i still have your cold face on my lips from a last kiss which flavours every breathe of mine since
Posted on: Thu, 01 Aug 2013 17:05:28 +0000
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