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Submitted:Feb 27, 2012    Reads: 10    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   

A quiet Sunday morning,

the room nearly empty,

the chipped white walls

as graceful as angels.


Tapping an old shoe,

on an old board,

beneath God's lintel,

in the house of on the shore.


Morning of the new day,

the children rest in the promised land.


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