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Sample Poem from At My Wit's Beginning:
The Silver Lining
Walking for hours (days perhaps),
bones pressing against skin,
I come upon
a fork in the road.
I pick it up
and pick up the pace
in hopes of soon finding
the knife and the spoon,
then my place at a table
with plate of food
providing nourishment needed
to continue this awkward journey.
- John Rowe
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