Broad sun-stoned beaches. White heat. A green river. A bridge, scorched yellow palms from the summer-sleeping house drowsing through August. Days I have held, days I have lost, days that outgrow, like daughters, my harbouring arms. Anonymous submission.
Added: 14 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 27 Apr 2018 4:35 AM | Viewed: 10465 times
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Derek Walcott
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