The GunslingerA Poem by CrowleyHe looked over the drop, dead, pan,
fried Knowing she wasn't his, hunt,
lion, pride Losing to love is not losing Losing to love is only loss The temporary thrumming The incalculable mile Many raindrops would fall Before he found his smile © 2021 CrowleyReviews
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6 Reviews Added on December 29, 2021 Last Updated on December 29, 2021 |

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