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Thursday, May 2, 2019 12:01 am

archival find #16

My mother wrote this poem to my father
I think in their courting days. It seems
suitable for our spring now springing.  


Inevitable

A stream is singing lullabyes,
Its song has reached my ear;
And though I’m far and far away
     How can I but hear?

Violets are blossoming,  
Their hue has come to me;
And though I’m far and far away
     How can I but see?

A heart is holding tenderness;
Mine once it set aglow;
And though I’m far and far away
     How can I but know?

©2019 Jacqueline Jackson

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