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Somewhere, it's dawn
Somewhere first light opens the eyes of the downtrodden;
And mirrored mountains paint the morning bright;
Somewhere the warm winds relax,
And the songs of the sea and field
Sing a heady yield;
Somewhere two lovers meet again;
And a dying poet puts down his final pen;
Somewhere a man of unending torture
Rests his forgiven head,
And free blankets and thick pillows billow
On a fearless bed.
poem
by
Stan Petrovich
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