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spare these hands
the writer’s cramp – retracing
broken promise
spare these eyes
the hurt that they have seen
spare this heart
an emptiness (for reasons I can’t say)
that I might tell of autumn skies
and stars that burned away

spare these words a lack of rhyme
curs’ed for a reason
as destinies retold
of lives gone by
spare this soul the winter’s cold –
without a time of touching
a kinder place
to lay me down –
and will to wonder why