T-day paper, <br />Little color bits fuel <br />A hunger never filled <br />Something precious dies. <br /> <br /> <br />Preface <br /> <br />Perhaps this is my task in life <br />To filter things that touch a soul <br />And to hold the strains till a pen can mold <br />Feeling into form.<br /><br />Bill Grace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/big-city-turkey-day-paper/
