Amongst the trees of knowledge lost.A Poem by andrew mitchell
Writer’s cough
chokes on words leaving the grounds empty. The quill is near, the inkwell full but the movement of thought is thin between the worlds of day and night and the arch of wisdom casts no light while the shadows have all gone home. © 2019 andrew mitchellReviews
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5 Reviews Added on December 25, 2019 Last Updated on December 25, 2019 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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