Pasternak Time: “She listened long after there was much to say”
She listened long after there was much to say.
There was always something to say.
Winter days, remembering the times all day inside.
So much to forget, inside.
Imagine no-one to talk to while winter lasts,
Sharing the spoken word, while time lasts.
Those with no-one to talk to live so long.
It is fearsome how much we long.
Hermits receive visitors’ needs and uncertainties.
Novelists write alone vastly from uncertainties.
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