Deborah Lundbech's photos with the keyword: poem

Undivided, unsent postcard.

When the second hand's soft sweep tells me That the year before has gone and now I stand grown older: I lie and cry For the bright white cake with candles I used to see; And for the children, chattering bubbles in a Babel, Who would crowd about me with popping toys Of rainbow and pink paper of crepe that stretched; And for curls of girls reciting and the jealous-eyed boys Who brought presents in ribbons of red And fed themselves with chocolate babies. Richard Fariña