three o’clock in the morning
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Three o’Clock in the Morning
Three in the morning, an hour of woe, Breathes heartache and mourning and deepest sorrow. Its minutes are counted with seconds and sighs As in blanket-mound bed fears dance ‘fore sore eyes. The moments just lumber- a funeral dirge- While we, seeking slumber, turn, toss on its verge. The stillness is silence as cold as… Continue reading
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Ryanne Molinari 