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by Maple Tree Jun 29, 2020
Feet walk slowly, through muddy grass
and Popsicle sticks.
Hearing music mixed with laughter
as creepy sounds from the fun house; haunt.
Bells ring from muscled men who try to impress
the bearded lady and all I see is rainfall....
pouring down like confetti
on a night when the moon
has two faces and nothing
remains the same.
I've missed your writing, Andrea. I always think you focus a lot on the endings to your poems. You always set up the last line/stanza well. This is no exception! Hope to see more from you soon. :)
by Meena Krish
Ahhh....the depth of feelings buried within pours out in silent rage and pain. Your choice of words brings each line to life..touching. Take care ~
by BOB GALLO
Too short. regardless of the message ( which I am sure is sublime) one feels reading and siping on delicious, honest, eloquent soup like this whole night.
The warm language, in my case, overwhelmed the meaning.
by Ben Pickard
by Maple Tree