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Writer's pictureStephen Kingsnorth

November 1

Updated: Mar 27, 2023

I sat, bench-set, mind wandering,

for, dare I face this dawn day, yawn,

my glance, eye corner, turned to glare,

flat paper scrap, slat-laid beside.


Faint lines, insight just visible,

beneath a single in-half fold,

of blue, hand-written by its scribe,

hint clue of secrete, story told.


Two code words sworn on paper, torn,

imprinted stark on mind’s eye still,

from slow start shock on wonder pew,

where I read first, “I will”, confirmed.

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