Across the street, the letters lay;
They never walk, they never stray.
Across the street, they wait and pray
for a steadfast heart to come their way.
Cross the street, where letters lay,
bare your soul; keep doubts at bay.
Cross the street, where they wait and pray.
Pick them up and listen...
Listen to what they have to say.
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YOU ARE READING
Spilled Ink
PoetryA piece of soul in ink, and unto the paper it spilled. A collection of thoughts that rhyme from a wandering mind.
