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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #846859 |
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Gone
This train isn’t moving Just sits there on the platform, Blowing off steam. This flower isn’t growing Just sits there in a terracotta pot, Nodding in the wind. This wall isn’t tumbling Just stands there, impregnable, As if in suspense. This cloud is drifting Close your eyes for a second And it’s gone. For C, 8th May 2004 ***
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© Copyright 2004 Anne M R Chiles - *published!* (UN: annemrc at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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