Friday, December 26, 2008
Karen Dalton's In a Station, snow still falling outside through the orange lamplight, heaped up four feet high at the curb.

Once upon a time leaves me empty
Tomorrow never comes
I could sing the sound of your laughter
Still I don't know your name
Must be some way to repay you
Out of all the good you gave
If a rumour should delay you
Love seems so little to save.

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