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Poem by Mary Hobson
The roads are dry today. Good visibility. No rain till later on, they say. Next news at three. Why do I listen when he isn’t there? Why do I care? The forecast is a charm To keep some other mother’s son from harm. I hope it may. But it’s too late for me.
8th May, 2000
Mary Hobson's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail email@example.com