Hold steady the door:
Not for the forethought of it,
But because he sees
What you’ve done with what
Was left to your silken siege.
He forgave what you
Lacked the death to ask;
You wear the courage of his
Sleeves in your ev’ry task.
Yet honor hollow
Pours empty into your ear,
For you but follow.
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Poetry: Gloves
https://windstrewn.com/2017/12/06/gloves/
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