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Posted by on Jan 12, 2020 in Poetry | 2 comments

THE ROOM THE BROOM WAS IN

The room the broom was in
Was unswept and the lady wept
Her auburn hair in the last flare
Of sun tied back in a bun
That pinched her face a grimace
So profound no sound was heard
In the house an eon of chaos ensued
Bitter downfall in a pile of glitter
We thought was a knot of stars

 

2 Comments

  1. LOVE it! Great music in the words.

  2. so good to hear from you, many many thanks for reading

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