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The Plaything
She powdered her nose and set his buttons right.She bade him goodbye from the cracked threshold where the termites sang their gnashing songs.He had a wife who powdered his soul.But,She blew it off and set it free,And yet she sawHis retreating back,A diminishing shadow;Never a promise ofApproaching footsteps,A hardy knock,Nor an open heartWrapped in silk or glossy paper.
haha just a thing I hapn to do :P
ReplyDeleteThird Blog since May. I had to skip twice to find you.
ReplyDeleteI try :) thanks heh you aren't bad yourself :P you are incredible.
ReplyDeleteYou and Ty have the humour power..I gotta haggle for something :p Aww love u Gnetchy :)
ReplyDeleteAh! Dang Swets... you are too good!
ReplyDeleteYou have a super poet power.
ReplyDeleteI love...