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  • Lorraine Johnson

[167] Take Hold

The streets fill with windows tight

no warmth in sight, yet a lone cat

darting windswept paths

and the clock ticks, and the bells ding

quietly, in the hush of memory

look back, go forward

sunrise, sunset, the sun shifts

shadows grow tall and short

a passing peace presents,

breathe, take hold

harness the call,

no need to stall.


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