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| Topic: Clearing the Garden Shed | |
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Edited by
rapsscallion
on
Mon 08/11/14 01:33 PM
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Clearing the Garden Shed
"I'��m here," he whispers And I feel a butterfly touch against my skin His cobwebbed hat hangs forgotten on the wall Decaying boots expectant by the door Spade and hoe tumbled by the chair Through the handkerchief panes I glimpse the memory of my father Taking one last stroll around his beloved garden S.N. |
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