(untitled)



	I sit among 

	the dead, the dying 

	the forgotten ones 

	to whom

	a word, a kiss, a caress 

	are a gift

	their faces fill with light 

	when someone comes 

	along

	who sees beyond 

	the wrinkles 

	and confusion 

	into the child who 

	still lives



		The Poet (of Joan C.)

				

 

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