Sunday, September 18, 2005

Counting My Blessings

Seven hours far from my own daylight a man pumps water from his basement. A pipe has broken. He’s young, handsome and wise.
He’s my only dream for years now.
He says ‘count your blessings’. As I start to, he drifts away. The day he’ll stay, I’ll count my blessings.

by E.T.

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