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I’ve been in a race even my shadow
Couldn’t catch me until late
So many I’ve loved and admired
Turned to dust
The wonder and waste of a still life
When breathing is just not enough
Is anybody listening to the cracking sound
Bone on bone a chronic lament
How do you weigh and measure gratitude
On a tipping scale of pleasure and pain
And yet poetry plays a serenade
Love came and kissed my face
There’s more to say
Something wonderful
Delivered late
