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Thursday, 18 September 2008 00:00
Unheeded
At first I was afraid
But my hand grabbed this page
And the pen was ready to follow
As I woke from the dream
My mind played out the scene
And the world was eager to swallow
Bread fell to the table
Basket rocked unstable
As the hungry hands grasped at its load
Through the ages of time
The teachers stood in line
But their preaching unheeded grew cold
© 9/18/2008, William Grant Preston
