willow
wind
and
whipping
wire
bending
beech
and
crooked
spire
wayward
homeward
flagging
cold
she
walks
the lanes
of Wexford
bold
yet
caught
in mellow
thought
for those
who
do not
see
her
bleeding
feet
her
red black
hair and
eyes
as black
as
peat

07/15/2006

Posted on 07/15/2006
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