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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
Postcard #9 – What is Zom’s next destination?
Hello LEO members,
Soon I’ll be leaving Australia for a new place that my Australian mate Bill has visited a few times. I asked him to talk about it. Listening to his description and perception of the place, can you guess what my next destination is?
The recording:Listen to "Postcard #9 – What is Zom’s next destination?" on Spreaker.Where am I heading to in a few days?
It befits a man to be merry and glad
Until the day of his death.