Ivor M Bundell
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See AllThe dragon’s roar echoes from an airport Over the hills beyond and through blue air To this quiet garden where I sit and stare Addictively at apps like someone caught In a maelstrom, the cyclone’s sin
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I walked with William Butler Yeats Among the children at my school And heard them tell of unfamiliar days And watched them run and play and fall At sixty now my beard is grey And all my knowledge wash
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I lay on the lawn looking up at the wide blue sky. My skin was in need of sun. The late spring had been unusually hot and the garden needed rain, desperately. The sky was cloudless and without trace
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