Echo Alley
The end is near
not much remains
of what was tossed in ditches
and washed down drains
where light comes dear
and fear leaves stains
on shattered dreams
and ill got gains
the echo of
the souls’ refrains
still taps its beat
on burnt out brains.
By Jeanne MacGregor Lahn
This poem was written by Jeanne Lahn on Mar 13, 1995.
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