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October 26, 2016

 

brakes squeal, tires scream, sliding rubber shreds

tempers flare, subside, fingers slow unclench

righteousness has taken the back-seat to practicality

red now welcomes where green once held hope

and now, waiting for this light to change, I pray

that the day begun by this careless minutes waste

will not itself be thrown away and unaware of glory

 


Brakes Squeal
A poem by Peter Rhebergen

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Each New Day A Miracle
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