A beautifully decorated children’s
Choir of storm arose.
We have been full
Of them, felt curtains rooted down
In the communicating corner.
The cold I thought,
Was masquerading as grapefruit.
Many trays of lime juice and salt
People see in his unfinished work were
Directed with an upturned plastic cup.
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Published by The.Richard.Braxton
Richard Braxton is a writer struggling with his inner poet. He has fought the poetic urge most of his life, but lately, he has fallen prey to this lifestyle. He creates poetry on a daily basis, and the world is the worse for it.
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