WHENEVER I
LOOK AROUND ME
Whenever I look around me at all the things there.
I get ruefully sad. John Baylor will be leaving here
soon. Trees, and sheds and buildings. Old homes
and grand places. Ancient pastures where yet the
cows range round. Everything together in their
one happy place. John Baylor will soon be gone.
-
It's not a manticle of fear or stagefright, for
everything is all arranged: The flowers and
the incense. The funereal sadness and the dull,
plodding ache. A release in a way, more than
it's worth. I can no longer focus nor even see
straight.
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