Sometimes I think
On permanent things:
The birds that sing,
The grand old churches
And the trees.
Then the breeze,
Mingling with the rain
Shows what will remain.
When you and me
Are as the tree.
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K Morris - Poet 
❤️
I’m glad you like my poem, Beth. Thank you for commenting.
Reblogged this on https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
Thank you for sharing, Michael.
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