THE HAUNTING OF AN AMERICAN DREAM: A SPRINKLING OF GOLD DUST

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Tuesday, May 5, 2009

A SPRINKLING OF GOLD DUST

My troubles seem dim Far away and unreal When standing alone At the top of a hill With music of angels Soprano and clear Drifting on moonlight Proclaiming them near. My questions, unanswered Fade into night Washed free in the gleaming Silvery light. A ribbon of water Shimmers below While the stars... Sign in to see full entry.

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