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Showing posts from July, 2017

The Dress

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My blue dress blows through wildflower fields,
  Kissing petal tips
    collecting pollen dust.
I spread my arms wide
   Twirling
      twirling
        twirling.
Oh sunshine, make me warm again
wrapped up in


My blue cotton dress.


The white hem of my blue dress
  is made of the finest lace
and there, along a picot edge, is
      a
         single    loose  
      and
                             delicate
                                                                          thread.
It catches
On wildflower stems and petal tips and
the lace
    begins
to
   u  n  r  a  v  e  l
on


My blue cotton dress.


I had hoped to dance all day and
    into the
    night        in my little blue dress;
but now it is
   ruined and
so
am I        ?
A single fickle thread has undone the
prettiest bits of


My blue cotton dress.


I won't dance any more. Not just yet.
I'll just lay down
   right  here
in this wildflower field         in my imperfect blue dress
and rest
            just for a whi…

Refrigerator Poetry Again

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