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Poetry by
Graham Webb
Country: UK
The Hunter
He feels the November rain
It falls steadily seeming
that it would drown him
He does not move
Not yet
The tree gives no shelter
The last leaves have capitulated
to the last cold wind
Now!
He moves with grace
Swift silent sure
Then down
His prey will crouch too late
The talons open.....
G W
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Lost
In Time
I am lost in time
As the rain comes down
And the thunder rules the earth
In a field I stand
And I brush your hand
And your laughter rules the earth
And your hair is soft
and your face is cool
And your breathe is like wild flowers
But the picture’s gone
And I’m all alone
And your absence rules the earth
And the rain is soft
And the rain is cool
As it moves across the meadow
And though how clear your face
It’s in another place
And your beauty rules the earth
Graham Webb
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