Images

Every morning in the quiet of the day
My mind races  with things I might  say.

There was an explosion in my head
of many things I left unsaid.

 I wonder if I could ever share
Those images my mind did snare.



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Christmas 1955

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In the quiet of the day

 Every morning in the quiet of the day My mind races with things I might say. There was an explosion in my head Of many things I left unsaid. I wonder if I could ever share Those images my mind did snare.
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