description
9
From "Talking to my Daughter Late at Night"
We have a tray, a pot of tea, a scone.
This is the hour
When one thing pours itself into another:
The gable of our house stored in shadow.
A spring planet bending ice
Into an absolute of light.
Your childhood ended years ago. There is
No path back to it.
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OPERA AMERICA SONGBOOK / VARIOUS
by OPERA AMERICA SONGBOOK / VARIOUS
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