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Click hereAs days turned
to weeks.
The clock prolonged
her agony.
The sorrow that
flooded her face
rivaled the Nile
Whispers of doubt
traveled the avenues
of her mind.
Surrounded by chatter
of ill intentions.
Her heart begged
for a sign.
Her only answer,
a whistle,
from the January wind.
Copyright © 2006 MLB. All Rights Reserved.
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,500 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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