Poetry The eve of war   By Roger Humes April 23, 2003 The Iranian a lone crumpled sheet of paper (perhaps a shopping list or the reminder of a chore, possibly a lovelorn note or some verse best left to silence) caressed by the fingers of a cold wind tumbles with the dust across the darkened road teeters on the edge of sight and is gone    * Send this page to your friends * Printer friendly COMMENT For letters section To Roger Humes * Advertising * Support iranian.com * FAQ * Reproduction * Write for Iranian.com * Editorial policy

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