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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


I am making promises
with every bulb I plant.
At the end of winter
there will be beauty
for your eyes.
I am making promises
to leave the sound of prayers
by your bed.
For the night to say,
sleep peacefully.
Here are words for you.
Here is a soul
how sweet life is!

You will hear
the prayers of my heart.
I promise.
And on mornings
when the sky is rinsed,
the clouds hanging
like wash on a line,
there will be a star
in your hand
lighting the palest of dawns,
and promises
I make of love.

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