Poor Packers of the Stoney Pond

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Frivolous of me to say,
Poor packers of the stoney pond.

That lightened whispers will some day,
Free you of your acidic bond.

Please walk lightly while you may,
French strudle of the meagre, conned.

I'll tell then again someday,
Of stories, legends, true and fond.



Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.
— Corrie Ten Boom