I’ve a funny feeling on my face. I don’t think it’s quite in the right place. These words you find on some line, as I’ve lost the use of mouth. Formulated in time by a mind whose metre is composed in doubt…
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Undulating flakes of frost frazzle bout the winter…
Ah the scraping of timeworn tabletops…
What an old house it was!
©2024 Giuseppe Gillespie