poetjude

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My stories

Cherry

Is this

This is Battersea Peace Pagoda Haven't been here lately Where River meanders sedately Russet Leaves Drifting on a course unchanged
Cherry

Lacon House

Thoughts of getting older Wane as the day grows colder The clouds tattered shreds Heart like lead, Gaze drifts slowly from Evening ash, the descended
Cherry

To be a Pilgrim

I seek, I yearn for that which You said would be an adventure. All my days are extraordinary Take some time to recognise a life long pilgrimage I walk
Cherry

Healing Hands

His head, pressed lightly into mine and his Healing hand across my back
Cherry

Never one for the road

I was never one for the road you know

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