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Famine
The sinking sun is now undone,
the sky is fading red.
A spider black hides in a crack
and spins a silken thread
And babes will soon collapse and swoon,
on stones they call a bed;
With vacant eyes they fantasize
and dream of gingerbread,
And then are freed, though still in need,
from anguish of the dead.
poem
by
Terry O'Leary
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