Mike Bell/ December 26, 2016/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

The distance, my distance,
on our late-traipse home,
we split, slipped in time,
stonewall of town’s slope,

to the bells’ commands
of Holy Cross Church:
with books, our language,
of moments mis-heard:

This distance, my distance,
you shall have to forgive,
as long as such distances
are not distances long-lived.


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