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grubby grists of euphuistic prolixity

Wednesday, 5 May 2010

Abandoned

As first light gilds the minarets
No sound of morning call
The dried up fountains wait in quiet repose

The desert air breathes frail regrets
Sand laps the quibla wall
Such stillness watched by crumbling porticoes
Posted by Philip Damian-Grint at 21:18
 
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