they leave a little
a small bit
like crumbs
on the table
swept under rugs
dust angels
that float towards
the earth
and get lost
in the tapestries
of your foyer
hanging pronouns
in the glaze of the sun
a samba that never
ends
krinkles and pop
– sheila c.
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Hanging pronouns… what a great line!!!!
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Thank you so much!
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