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Winding through a gentle hour,
Dreaming dreams of dark and dour
Relentless spirits seeking winter
In the wine of summer's vintage
Squeezed from grapes of past delight
Drinking, sinking out of sight.
A somber Muse! So cold and fair
And yet forlorn. I cannot care
For unsung songs in unborn time
Not even in an unrhymed rhyme.

Robert G. Brown 2007-03-21